Heyo! I'm sorry I am so late. It's been a hectic few months, and things are still crazy. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the chapter. :)
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The room was quiet. Where there had once been heavy mechanical breathing, there was silence. The soft rustle of fabric replaced the whine of servos. The walls were a muted cream color, while the ceiling and sheets were bleached white. Darth Vader took these in and turned his attention to the arms lying on the sheets. They were his, yet they didn't feel like it. The cool air and scratchiness of the blanket seemed foreign and uncomfortable.
He held his right hand up and shook his head. Count Dooku had taken it 23 years ago, teaching him a lesson he would never forget. Years later, Vader would have been content to leave it missing. The phantom pain and mechanical noises warned him against arrogance and reckless swordsmanship. It was a lesson in his mortality. A stab of pain in his back made him wince. Perhaps there were other reminders.
He felt Dr. Halsey walking to the door and lowered his hand. She walked in, fixated on the datapad in her hand. Halsey glanced up, over the datapad, at him. There was a moment of silence, only broken by the shutting door.
"How do you feel?" she finally asked.
Only then did she lower the datapad.
"Fine."
Dr. Halsey nodded and pulled out a stethoscope.
"Deep breath," she commanded as she pressed the end against his chest.
He took a deep breath. The air was cold as it filled his lungs. The visible rise and fall of his own chest made Vader uneasy. Signs of life meant signs of weakness.
"Good," she placed the stethoscope against his back, "Again."
There was another moment of silence. Darth Vader could feel her concern ebb and flow as she read and logged the various monitors surrounding him.
"On a 1 to 10 scale, how's the pain?"
"Zero."
"Right now?"
"Yes."
She typed the number into the datapad.
"What about over the last twelve hours?" she quizzed.
"Zero."
Dr. Halsey stared at him in disbelief.
"On a 1 to 10 scale, where would you rate your pain over the last 12 hours?" she pressed.
Each word was slightly exaggerated, with annoyance lacing her voice.
"Zero."
"Darth Vader, you do realize this room is wired, right? We have cameras sending live audio-visual feedback to the medbay staff. We hear and see every move and sound you make," Dr. Halsey announced, "With that in mind, do you care to tell me the truth?"
Vader just stared at her. His own face had twisted into a subconscious look of defiance. Inside, every instinct told him to stand his ground. Two of the most deadly things a Sith could do are show weakness and admit to a lie. Dr. Halsey wanted him to do both.
Vader sat up straight in the bed. His left leg twitched, the scratchiness of the blanket overcoming his discipline. He tensed his muscles and stared at Halsey.
"Pain is a symptom. I need to know about those if you want to stay alive," she pressed.
Vader's mind screamed for silence, even as he took stock of his body.
"Seven. Both of my arms hurt here and here," Vader answered as he pointed to each spot, "Breathing hurts. There is also a pain in my upper back that comes and goes, and I have had a headache since you removed the helmet."
Doctor Halsey offered him a satisfied look. It wasn't quite a smile, just a barely noticeable upturn in her lips. It had been years since she had been given any reason to actually smile. If she were to believe the corpsmen and junior doctors, Halsey might say that she had been born without that ability.
"I'm not entirely surprised about the breathing. Most of the major repair work was done around your upper torso and chest. The suit was thoroughly tangled in your nervous system. We removed and reconstructed what we could. However, pain around the interface site is expected and likely permanent," she answered clinically.
"And the headache?" Vader quizzed.
He could live with pain. The problem was that the pain came and went in waves, taking his other senses with it. He hadn't told Halsey about the times such bursts of pain left him half-blind and dizzy.
"Your skull was all but caved in. The fact that you aren't completely brain dead is a medical miracle for which I have no answer."
Doctor Halsey offered the answer as she leaned in.
"How bad is the headache?" she asked.
"Between an 8 and 10. It comes in waves," Darth Vader answered.
His voice was flat and stripped of emotion.
Dr. Halsey's eyes traced a line of stitches across the top of his head. Doctor Halsey said nothing as she made another entry in the datapad. She then turned her attention to the bandages across his torso. As she did, Vader scratched at his neck and up the back of his head.
Smack!
Dr. Halsey caught the offending hand with her datapad. Vader grunted as he pulled back his hand.
"I'll get you ointment for the itching. I don't need you tearing something open," she scolded.
Vader didn't say anything but simply let her work.
"Any numbness or tingling in your hands or feet?" Halsey asked.
"No."
"Good. Hold your hands out and touch each finger to your thumbs," she ordered.
Vader curled each finger down to its corresponding thumb. The movements were fast and precise, especially when compared to the rough approximations offered by his old suit. Dr. Halsey looked up, snickered, and turned back to the limbs. A smile must have inched its way onto Darth Vader's face. He would have to work on hiding such things better.
She walked him through a small battery of tests. Different joints were rotated, bent, and otherwise moved around. She poked at each of his fingertips and toes, noting the response from each. As they worked, Vader concluded that excruciating pain had been a small price to pay for his humanity.
"Good nerve response and small motor movements," she announced.
She then went about changing the web of bandages that covered his body. The process was painful. The adhesive wrap clung to his skin. At the same time, the different positions he had to be in pulled at the stitches underneath.
"How long until I can leave?" Vader demanded through gritted teeth.
"Ideally? A year or more. What we did has never been done, at least in my part of the universe. I would keep you around to study how the changes to your body affect you mentally and physically over time," she answered, "It would also allow us to catch any unexpected complications."
Vader opened his mouth to protest. However, he was stopped by an emphatic wave of the doctor's hand.
"I know that's impossible. We have one more procedure later today. There is still some wiring inside you that needs removing, and I want a scan of your head. After that, we'll put you through some bacta treatments and begin teaching you how to walk again," Dr. Halsey said.
"That doesn't answer the question."
"One week. Let's get to the point where we can pull the stitches and get you walking."
"Not good enough. I have things to do."
"And how will it look if you go back to the Executor and can't even walk across the hanger?" Halsey shot back.
Vader let out a barely audible groan. He didn't like it, but she was right.
"Fine."
∫∆πµπ∆∫
The Infinity had a large wardroom, with a large oak table ringed by over a dozen chairs and grey walls. The table had a holoprojector placed in the middle and pictures of the Infinity and her escorts lining the walls.
The same room had entirely different effects on all of the officers present. While Admiral Hood found himself at ease, Captain Lasky felt intimidated. Within these walls, his leadership was regularly tested. The Arbiter was the only person genuinely indifferent to his surroundings. To him, it was an inoffensive room with an inoffensive oak table. It was not his first or last time in such a place. Of that, he was sure.
The three, plus Agent Dare, sat in the room. No one said a word as the holographic recording played out. Everyone simply listened and watched. It was an hour-long highlight reel of human suffering and misery. It made Captain Lasky's skin crawl just hearing about the operation. To watch it in detail was sickening. Ten minutes ago, this would have been the focal point of the conversation. Watching Vader come back from the dead multiple times was a remarkable, even if terrifying, thing to see. Yet, one sentence hung in the air as the hologram winked out.
"The Flood. If I die, you must ask Hood about 'the Flood,'"
The words clung to them, snaking through their minds like an invisible net.
"Based upon Admiral Piett's response, it is safe to assume that they have talked about this subject before," Agent Dare offered.
"Hmm… In quite some detail," the Arbiter added.
"So it would seem. Why is Vader suddenly so concerned about the Flood? He barely missed a beat when they were first brought up," Admiral Hood pressed.
"My forces on the surface have heard nothing from General Veers or the soldiers under him," the Arbiter noted, "Whatever it is, they have not seen it fit to spread it to their subordinates."
"Or those subordinates know how to stay quiet," Captain Lasky said.
"Even the most devoted warriors talk. They simply do it in the shadows, among the ones they know they can trust," the Arbiter argued, "Perhaps the General or Commander Appo knows what is happening. However, they would be the only ones."
Agent Dare nodded in agreement. She was one of the few who knew of the Sangheili the Arbiter had quietly inserted into Vader's area of control. They hid behind their active camouflage, simply observing. They were keeping watch for the faintest sign of Vader's next move.
"Darth Vader has found the Flood. He told Admiral Piett and no one else. What happens next?" Admiral Hood asked.
"We don't know that," Agent Dare announced.
Admiral Hood paused with his mouth half-open.
"Hear me out. You wanted me to find out what the Imperial military was doing. I'm still working on that, but I found something else interesting. I've been working with Admiral Piett and their network of spies to get an accurate picture of what is happening deeper in the galaxy," she explained as she turned to the holographic projector, "Roland, show them what we found yesterday."
"We've only been working with a fraction of Vader's intelligence network. It's a perfectly adequate fraction that shows us what we need to know. However, everyone else has some interesting tasks. The way he has this entire operation set up is quite impressive. He has eyes and ears in every facet of Imperial society. Yet none of them know about each other, and fewer know that they're reporting to Vader directly. He uses a series of burn-on-read messages bounced off relays, some military and some civilian, but never-" Roland said.
"The punchline Roland… Get there." Lasky demanded.
He really hated Roland's rambling sometimes. Roland swallowed and relaxed his holographic body as he organized his thoughts.
"He's digging through the Imperial ranks for a 'Force-sensitive' cult. Specifically, he's looking for one that references 'The Flood' and 'Rule of Two' among other keywords," Roland explained.
"Vader is interested in Imperial military personnel and political leaders," Agent Dare added, "I don't know what string he's tugging, but it doesn't have to do with the Ring. I'm supposed to meet with Ahsoka Tano after this. She's another Force user with the Alliance. With any luck, I'll get some insight out of her."
Admiral Hood nodded.
"Do that. I'll speak with Admiral Piett. I want to know why they're looking for a military cult," Admiral Hood agreed.
"It would be wise to find out why such a question is only being asked now, as opposed to the beginning of the conspiracy," added the Arbiter.
"He's right. Vader seems to have planned for everything. What changed?" Lasky said.
Admiral Hood nodded. Underneath his calm demeanor, the uneasiness began to grow. He felt as though they were standing on the edge of something. He could only hope that it was the edge of a step and not a cliff.
"Let's find out. In the meantime, I need solutions for killing Vader, should the need arise. Clearly, a bullet to the chest isn't going to cut it. I want to know what will," Admiral Hood ordered.
The Arbiter locked eyes with Captain Lasky.
"I will discuss the matter with Fleetmaster Rtas and Commander Palmer. In the meantime, I suggest that we become well acquainted with our collective orbital strike abilities."
"Agreed. The day is still young. I'll speak with Admiral Ackbar and swap notes with you after dinner," Captain Lasky decided before turning to Agent Dare, "I need–"
"Detailed notes on Vader's capabilities and weaknesses and an assessment of his officers' loyalty to him. I'll be sure to add that to the list behind Imperial strategic assessments, building a detailed report on what the Force is and how it works, working up a psychological assessment of the Emperor, tracking down military death cults, and finding the last Halo Ring," she answered dryly.
There really weren't enough hours in the day for everything she and her small band of intelligence officers had to do.
"Let me know if you need anything."
"About 30 more hours in a day, an unlimited IV of coffee, five hundred more prowlers, intimate knowledge of how this galaxy functions, and intelligence resources I can trust."
"You and me both," Admiral Hood said.
"I can keep the coffee pots filled, and Roland belongs to you for now," Captain Lasky offered.
"That'll do, Captain."
"Do we know how the military reacted to Vader's broadcast?" Admiral Hood asked.
Agent Dare let out a deep sigh.
"It's hard to tell, Admiral. On the outside, things are quiet. According to rebel intelligence sources, ISB was all over the transmissions. The message was often either cut off, edited for Imperial propaganda purposes, or simply never made it through," she answered.
"ISB?" the Arbiter asked, tilting his head slightly.
He knew of Imperial Intelligence and their spies, but this was new to him and most of the room.
"Imperial Security Bureau, internal security- secret police- state-sponsored goons tasked with 'unaliving' people who express dissatisfaction in the government," Agent Dare answered, her voice filled with contempt.
The Arbiter's mandibles twisted into a look of disgust. He had dealt with many such people in the Covenant. As an officer, he found such people to be a nuisance. As an individual, he found them to be entirely unnecessary.
"I see."
Admiral Hood added. He was content to simply marvel at the irony of an ONI agent giving such a description.
"Is that the only assessment we have?" Captain Lasky quizzed.
"No. Admiral Piett says that things are quietly simmering in the military. Apparently, a few of his contacts in the intelligence world are on edge. There's been some isolated desertions and even a few missing patrol craft from the Outer Rim region," she added, "'Political Awareness' meetings and other such propaganda measures have picked up steam in the military. However, results are mixed beyond the Core."
"There are no idealists in deep space," the Arbiter said, "Anger and disillusion can easily take hold amid war, and it does not let go. Squeezing their ranks tighter won't solve the matter."
"Fanaticism can take people far. Your own people are proof of that," Agent Dare pointed out.
"Not as far as you think. Atriox and those who followed him showed such limits," he argued, "Even later, as my fleet set fire to Reach, there were voices of quiet dissension within our ranks. I was just too deaf to hear them."
Agent Dare offered a noncommittal shrug. She didn't share the Arbiter's view but didn't see it as something worth arguing over. As much as officers liked to compare the Empire to the Covenant, they differed in mindset and ideology. The Empire was full of humans, and humans, on their own, were easy to rally around a common enemy.
"So far as the prowler fleet can tell, Imperial deployments are continuing as scheduled," she offered instead, "Things may be simmering below the surface. However, from a practical sense, nothing has changed."
Admiral Hood nodded, mentally adding each answer to his mental image of their situation. The factories at Rothana had been a gold mine. The vehicles, ammunition, and tools stored below would be a welcome addition to their fleet. It would take some work for some of the more finicky items to be repaired and brought up to operational status, but it was not an unreasonable amount of time. The cold, dry storerooms had preserved the vehicles well. Things such as rot and corrosion had been kept to a minimum. Even the contents of the fuel sheds had been of reasonable quality.
The resupply ships would arrive in a few days, bringing precious items specific to his and the Arbiter's fleet. In the meantime, Alliance shipments had been moving in food supplies, tools, spare parts, and the personnel required to keep things operational. Not for the first time, Admiral Hood found himself glad that he hadn't ever needed to deal with a rebellion this well organized and funded.
All-in-all, they had a few days to devote to recon. There was just one question to be answered.
"What about our search for the Halo Ring," Admiral Hood quizzed.
"The Core region prowlers are still in transit. It will be some time still before they are on station," Agent Dare said.
Her face was drawn up into a tight frown. She really did not like how big this part of space was. The Halo Rings in the Milky Way had been scattered across a fraction of the galaxy. Yet, they had taken years to find, even with a couple being found by blind luck. There was no telling how long it would take to come through the Core region of this galaxy.
The Arbiter straightened up in his seat. Years of diplomacy had taught him to hunch down slightly. It made him less intimidating to his human counterparts. However, now was not the time for such courtesies.
"Agent Dare, how certain is Naval Intelligence that the ring is here," the Arbiter asked, the agency name spoken like a curse, "The core of a galaxy is a chaotic and violent place, with a black hole at the center. Planets and stars are constantly shifting their orbits, smashing into each other and ripping apart smaller bodies that get too close. The chances of a ring surviving in such a place are slim."
Silence fell over the room. Agent Dare's stomach jumped into her throat. Her mind began to race. She could recite the ONI reports from memory, as well as the party line. That wasn't what was being asked of her, though. Admiral Hood turned straight to her with an expectant look. What does ONI really want?
"Based on the information retrieved from the Ark and other archeological digs, ONI assesses with high confidence that the Forerunner Empire spanned across significant portions of both galaxies. This included a significant presence near Andromeda's core," Agent Dare ground out, "I am not a scientist, nor can I elaborate on what evidence brought ONI to this conclusion. I was only given the information required to be of use on this campaign."
That's bullshit, and we both know it, read the glare on Admiral Hood's face. Agent Dare glared back at him. All the old man could do was watch and bitch. It was one of the perks of being outside of his chain of command.
"This was originally a scientific expedition with the potential for diplomatic and military complications, was it not?" The Arbiter demanded.
"It was," she confirmed.
"And that was the mission you were briefed on before your arrival on the Infinity, was it not?" he pressed.
Her eyes narrowed. She didn't like where the Arbiter was going with this.
"Surely, they would have briefed you accordingly. Such a mission would require a much more in-depth knowledge of what your fellow spies and doctors had discovered," the Arbiter concluded.
"I simply go where I need to go and do what needs to be done, nothing more or less," she answered.
Her voice was clipped and professional. It did little to hide the aggravation in her voice, but that was hardly Dare's concern. She didn't appreciate being backed into a corner. She especially didn't like it being done in front of two senior officers. The fact that a Sangheili had done it was simply salt in the wound.
Silence fell over the room. Admiral Hood's question had been answered to his satisfaction. Though, he doubted that the Arbiter could say the same. He looked to the left and right at the others in the room before standing up. He tucked his shoulders back, pushing out his chest. The stand brought him to his full height and summoned the commanding presence that had brought the UNSC through its darkest days. The others rose in response, with Captain Lasky and Agent Dare coming to attention.
"Arbiter, please stay a moment. Everyone else is dismissed," Admiral Hood announced.
His voice was that of an order wrapped in courtesy. Agent Dare shuffled her first couple of steps. This allowed her to lag behind Captain Lasky and get one last backward glance at the Admiral. Nothing was gained except the look of a disappointed parent. The order to leave was one that she would be bound by.
Back at the front of the table, the Arbiter looked expectantly at his old adversary. The door clicked shut, and Admiral Hood returned the look.
"Things are changing on Earth and throughout the colonies," Admiral Hood announced.
"This is in regards to the agent."
Admiral Hood slowly nodded his head.
"Humanity, as you and I know it, has had three first-contact events. Each of them has ended exceptionally poorly," Admiral Hood continued, ignoring the touch of guilt on the Arbiter's face, "It has left several very powerful people very paranoid. It would be unwise to assume this expedition was ever commissioned with the expectation of peace."
The Arbiter stepped closer, awkwardly moving between the chairs.
"That much is obvious. A fleet of warships does not go to a place where peace is expected," the Arbiter agreed, "But tell me, Admiral: Flood aside, was there ever any peaceful intentions with this mission?"
Or was this yet another of your people's lies? The words, both spoken and unspoken, hung in the air.
"I never went searching for war. It found us," Admiral Hood said.
He had read the ONI files forward and backward so many times that he dreamed of those coffee-stained pages. Yet, a proper answer to the Arbiter's question was elusive.
"So it did."
The Arbiter offered Admiral Hood a wordless salute and turned to the door. Admiral Hood nodded once and watched as the final person marched out of the room.
(ISD Chimera: Hyperspace Transit)
The Chimera's wardroom was quite similar to that of the Infinity. However, each seat contained an embedded holoprojector. This was a feature unique to flagships. Today, only Admiral Thrawn and the Chimera's captain were actually in the room, with the other captains in the battlegroup projected around the table. The only two actually in the room were Admiral Thrawn and the Chimera's own captain. Everyone was silent as the holographic intelligence officer spoke.
The man projected in the center of the table was little more than a walking stereotype of an Imperial Intelligence officer. His voice was refined and confident. He described the impending destruction of the galaxy as though it were a mere inconvenience. His salt and pepper hair was slicked back, while the age lines on his face added experience to his otherwise youthful features. It was as though the man had let himself age just enough to gain credibility and nothing more.
Admiral Thrawn smirked. Living on Coruscant had its perks.
"By 0330 Coruscant Standard Time, the Strikefast, Hunter, and Inquisitor all reported hostile boarding parties. At 1030 yesterday, communication with all three ships and their four escorts was officially lost. Imperial intelligence assesses, with high confidence, that the entire battlegroup was taken intact-"
"And how did they come to that conclusion?" Admiral Thrawn cut in.
"Their transponders were active and reading GREEN. Thermal imaging from probes showed active powerplants in each ship during later passes. This was despite complete radio silence from the fleet."
"You are certain of this?"
"Yes, Admiral. I viewed the readouts myself," the officer confirmed.
No one spoke a word. They didn't have to. The uneasy glances and rigid backs said all that was needed.
"That was a Nineteen-hour fight. Were any other attempts at communication made?" Admiral Thrawn quizzed.
"If so, no one ever heard them."
Admiral Thrawn nodded once.
"Proceed."
"1800 yesterday, all seven transponders went dark. Another probe pass showed no visible surface activity and no ships in the system," the intelligence officer added, "Admiral, this is why your fleet was broken up. The Emperor felt it wise for the Black Fleet to deploy itself in a dragnet, with fewer ships committed to the ring itself."
The Admiral nodded. While he understood the logic, Thrawn was still not happy with reassigning both Executor-Class warships and half of his Star Destroyers. What had once been three whole squadrons pulled together into one fleet had been cut down to a force just as large as the one they had just lost.
"So be it. Is there anything else?"
"No, Grand Admiral. I will keep you advised of any changes in the situation," he answered.
"Very well."
With the press of a button, the intelligence officer disappeared.
"The lack of ships should provide us with an advantage," offered an officer on the far left end of the table.
"Unless it is a trap," warned the Chimera's captain.
"Oh, please… It took these creatures nineteen hours to overrun a ship." scoffed a commander on the other side of the table.
"Seven ships, three of which were overrun without a word. All of them were taken in one piece," Admiral Thrawn corrected, "Our enemy has shown knowledge of our ships and tactics. I think it would be wise to keep our distance from the ring."
"Perhaps here, with the ring to our flank. That would put the hyperspace lanes on the starboard side," suggested the captain.
Admiral Thrawn received the suggestion with silence. It would put their broadside guns to both likely avenues of attack. However, it would come with risks, some of which were unacceptable to him.
The meeting was long and tedious as Admiral Thrawn and the rest of the fleet's senior officers hammered out the specifics of their plan. Several of the officers, while concerned about the loss of the battlegroup, seemed unalarmed by their own apparent vulnerabilities. They advocated for deploying the ships close to the ring so that it might be used as cover for the star destroyers. Another added to the idea with an atmospheric landing, a tactic used previously to intimidate Lothal and other such rebellious worlds. On the opposite end of the spectrum, a couple of officers suggested that they put their backs to the ring. That way, they might be able to intercept whatever ships doubled back.
"What is the point of such a large force if we won't use it?" grumbled one ship captain at the death of his idea.
Admiral Thrawn turned to the man, a young commander by rank. There was a reason he was a captain by title only.
"I intend to use our resources to their fullest capability. However, that is impossible without first understanding our enemy's moves," Thrawn said.
His icy tone displayed the irritation he was starting to feel. There was a method and a plan for everything that he was doing. He just needed these officers at the table to actually consider what they were hearing.
The problem was that the Imperial Navy bred three types of officers. The first was a batch of officers that were too arrogant for their own good. They believed that their Imperial position was enough to protect them from inconveniences such as their own mortality or an enemy just as capable and deadly as them.
The second type was the cynical one. These were the ones that had seen their view of the universe and Empire shattered by reality. Whatever trust they had in their superiors and those below them was gone. Any plan that reached their ears automatically had to be changed. The objectives had to be made more reasonable, and the tactics employed needed to be reworked to not be complete suicide.
The third was a blend of the other two. These ones believed that they, and only they, held the answer to whatever challenge was ahead. No one else was to be trusted with formulating a plan. The suggestions and ideas of others were, at best, mere annoyances and, at worst, the product of a suicidal mind. Unfortunately for Admiral Thrawn, he had both officer brands gathered around the table with him.
Thrawn felt annoyance turn into anger as time went on. It was almost as though they did not believe the Grand Admiral. They refused to believe that he had spent time in those darkened tunnels or that he might otherwise know the enemy that they were facing.
"And so it begins," Admiral Thrawn muttered as the last officer winked out of existence. The wardroom door hissed shut behind the captain.
He stood in the empty room and took a breath. The recycled oxygen tasted bitter today. The whole ship felt especially cold and unwelcoming, with the walls pressing in on every side. Not for the first time, Admiral Thrawn wished that he was out on the frontline planning the counterattack against Darth Vader. At least the officers under him knew the enemy out there.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Admiral Thrawn punched the comm button.
"Yes?"
"Grand Admiral Thrawn, Bridge, we're one hour from the ring," reported the officer.
"Very well. I will be up shortly."
(ISD Conqueror: Hyperspace Transit)
The air was heavy. The durasteel walls seemed to press in on Captain Durban. The imperial star destroyer was a castle, and he was the king. At least on paper, he was. A day ago, the message had hit every holo terminal on the ship at once. Lord Vader had turned his back on the Empire. The entirety of Death Squadron had risen up against the Emperor. Now he was calling for others to join him.
The officers of the Conqueror had jumped on the transmission instantly. The message was deleted. Officers, both commissioned and non-commissioned, noted the crewmembers who watched the speech a little too intently, and an all-hands call had gone out within the hour. The ISB officer on board denounced the video as baseless propaganda. Either the video was fake, or these were the ramblings of a traitor. Regardless, this was not a call to be heeded.
"Your sons and daughters have not died for the betterment of the Empire. They have died for the ego of a madman and the corruption he enabled."
The words echoed in his brain. The last several months had been hard. The time in deep space had worn on the crew's sanity, while the nature of their operations had made them especially cold and cynical. Notes were taken, but how much did they matter?
The Conqueror had been escorting illicit spice when it wasn't running down smugglers and dueling with the various Outer Rim revolutionaries. Of course, the papers marked the spice as seized contraband. However, the greed in the Moff's eyes told the truth. There were also the usual counter-piracy patrols that had amounted to nothing. Four distress beacons had been received. The crew had arrived to find nothing but hollow shells and floating bodies each time.
By now, even Captain Durban felt the doubt pulling at his mind. He supported the Empire. The galaxy needed a guiding hand - a strong force to keep it from ripping apart at the seams. Yet, when Durban looked around, he didn't see a guiding hand. He saw another faction in a sea of chaos.
He was broken from his thoughts by a soft buzz. He checked his chrono. There were few acceptable reasons to be at a captain's stateroom this late, and none were good.
"Enter."
The door hissed open and revealed the ship's executive officer. The officer was a stout man with a stern face and a mustache cut exactly to regulation. Like his mustache, the rest of his uniform fit perfectly. The ceiling reflected off his belt, and the medal rows on his chest.
"What is it?" Durban asked.
The XO had sucked the air out of the room without saying a word. The Durban wasn't about to stew in it without an explanation.
"Orders came in from Outer Rim Command," he answered as he held out a datapad.
Captain Durban reached for the pad. The commander responded by pulling it back out of reach slightly.
"Sir, given the sentiment of the crew, I'm concerned," he added.
"Noted."
This time Durban yanked the pad from his hand. His eyes scanned across the words.
"From: Outer Rim Command
To: Commanding Officer - Imperial Star Destroyer Conqueror"
He continued down the page.
"Recent events have led… Traitors… Outside invasion force… Destroyed Yaga Minor Shipyard…"
Captain Durban had read the dispatches. He knew the story, at least as far as the Admirals told it. At the moment, he could care less about the backstory.
"...Proceed immediately to the Mustafar system. Rendezvous with transport ships… Take on supplies, to include…."
He felt the dread build inside him as he read the list. There were the usual provisions for the crew and fuel for the ship. That was to be expected. What concerned him was the rest. There were orders for a full magazine of concussion missiles and turbolaser energy packs. The onboard armories were being restocked. He was also taking on fresh fighter squadrons and extra stormtroopers.
"...Disembark onboard ISB agent, and receive new one…."
Captain Durban raised an eyebrow. Agent Morla was almost done with her rotation. However, she wasn't supposed to leave until they got to the yards at Corellia.
"...Upon resupply, proceed to coordinates 25.5 x 83.4 x 109.6. Rendezvous with Strike Group Alpha, under Admiral Kozna, in preparation for combat operations…."
Captain Durban let out a deep sigh. His stomach dropped, and his headache was back. It wasn't going away anytime soon, either. How- Why- What could make them think this was a good idea? According to the little number in the right margin, there were still 30 more pages.
They went deep into the weeds about emissions control, special OPSEC measures, and logistical support. Among other things, it broke down precisely what kind of hardware the stormtroopers would be bringing aboard, told Captain Durban what sensors to use and when, and gave the operational status of the new TIE squadron. All of it was important for Captain Durban to know. However, none of it mattered right this second.
He set the datapad down with exaggerated softness. Every muscle in his body twitched. Captain Durban felt the overwhelming impulse to smash the thing against the opposite wall.
"Sir, we've been out for nine months. The crew is-"
"I'm aware," Durban snapped.
His voice echoed off the walls.
"I'm aware," he repeated at a lower volume, "The crew is tired, you're tired, and I am too."
The commander looked over his shoulder, suddenly quite uneasy in his own ship. Such nervousness was familiar in a place where the walls have ears, and the lights have eyes. Durban offered a humorless smirk. The commander gulped once and decided that his words were worth such a risk.
"Captain, I'm loyal. You know that. I'll go where the Empire tells me to and do what it demands, but this is fundamentally dangerous. That battlegroup is going after Vader."
"Not exactly a mind-blowing conclusion…."
"Yes, but this crew… Its sympathies for Vader run deep. Even the stormtroopers are starting to take sides. I've heard what crewmembers say when they think no one else is around. It's not good," the commander continued, leaning in close, "A week of fresh fruit and a rousing speech isn't going to fix things."
Captain Durban nodded. He wasn't wrong. Current events aside, the crew didn't have much steam left.
"That may be, but there isn't anything we can do," he answered.
His voice was firm and direct. It tried and failed to hide the doubt in his mind. All of the loyalty in the world would mean nothing in the cold vacuum of space. It would mean even less if the Conqueror's batteries suddenly turned on her own battlegroup.
"What about the repairs? We were due for a complete overhaul once we got back," the commander pursued, "That reactor is old and tired. If we're not careful, it's gonna drive the engineers into an early grave and take us along for the ride."
"I know. I also know about the forward stabilizer, the outdated fire control certifications, and the issues with our maintenance logs," Durban added offhandedly.
Someone was going to hang for those logs, Durban decided. He just needed the time to deal with it. Half of what the Imperial Navy attributed to sabotage was likely just poor maintenance and stupid people doing stupid things. However, that was a lot more awkward and politically inconvenient to say than just assigning blame to a nameless and faceless enemy.
"Vader needs to be dealt with, but there has to be a better way," the commander pressed.
Captain Durban nodded. Maybe it was the exhaustion or the stress, but now he wasn't quite so sure. Everyone was quick to say that Vader was a problem to be fixed. What if he was the one fixing the real problem?
"Give me a couple of hours. I'll look at this again with fresh eyes and go from there."
"Yes sir."