Hello readers! I'm back with another chapter. In this installment, Drakken tried his hand at interrogation. Let's see how that goes, eh? I won't keep you, so without further ado, enjoy your read.
Drakken let out a sigh, his hand hovering over the controls for the hatch. He was tired, and he could feel the sweat and the caked-on grime of the battle. He couldn't help but think about Freya, and though he knew she was going to be fine in a day or so, he still felt concern for her. He had a lot on his mind. It had been a hell of a mission, and he wanted nothing more than to flop down on his bunk and pass out. Still, he had this one thing to do before he could focus on his own rest. He had to question these prisoners. He clicked his tongue and opened the hatch.
"Afternoon." He said, greeting the rebel prisoner bound to a chair in the center of the white-on-white room. He allowed the door to slide closed, and Tharcourt unceremoniously removed his belt and unbuttoned his tunic, placing both haphazardly on a nearby table. The man in the chair jerked slightly at the sound of the belt's buckle clicking against the metal surface. To him, this rugged-looking officer was divesting to prepare for a round or two of beating. Drakken was merely overheated and tired of the stuffy uniform. He unfastened the top of his sweat-stained white undershirt, content to feel the cool air. He pulled a chair across the room, intentionally letting it grate loudly on the floor as he drew it up to just in front of the prisoner, the back of the chair facing the rebel. Tharcourt plopped down, his arms resting on the back of the chair, and he looked the prisoner over for a moment.
He was a man in his late twenties, a slim, but muscular fellow. He had been captured while in a sleeveless undershirt, and Tharcourt made out a couple tattoos on the man's arms. One was of the rebel alliance symbol; some kind of bird, its wings curving to form the circle of the seal. Another was an animal he didn't recognize. Some sort of canid. His shaggy blonde hair hung down almost in the man's eyes, and his grey trousers didn't seem to match those of the rebel soldiers or the orange suits of the pilots. Drakken let everything connect, trying to form a picture of who this man was before he even began to speak to him.
"You were ground crew." He said, taking a wild guess, based off of the man's appearance. The prisoner looked up in surprise. Good. He decided to fish. "I take it you like working on ships, son?"
"What?" The rebel returned. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"Oh. I just assumed you being ground crew, that you liked working on starfighters." Tharcourt mused. "That's all."
"I guess I do." The man said bitterly. His eyes narrowed. "You're that officer…the one that raided our base."
"Well…I suppose I am. My name is Commander Tharcourt, and I just wanted to ask you a few questions about…"
"You think I'm going to say anything to you?!" The rebel spat. "You come in and murder my friends, and expect me to talk to you?!"
"I always believed that it ain't murder if the other guy is shooting back." Drakken stated. "If you people hadn't shot at us, we wouldn't have shot at you."
"Sure." He said cynically.
"Really. There's no blame in war…at least if both sides are trying to be fair about it."
"Fair…you people just show up and say 'All your base belong to us', and start blasting everyone. Don't try an' act…fair."
"Well…" Drakken shrugged. "I didn't start this war. You did. The rebellion, I mean. I'm an officer of the current government's military, and you're in active rebellion against the emperor and my people. If you met me on the street, you would probably come up and knock my lights out on principle alone, wouldn't you?"
"Yeah…I guess I would."
"See? You don't know me, and you want to kill me. And I don't know you, but I have to capture or kill you because you're my enemy. If we weren't duty-bound to kill each other, we might be out having a drink together right now. Eh…that's war."
"What kind of Imperial are you?" The rebel asked. "Thought you came here to torture me or something."
"Me? Dank Farric, no. I don't torture." The commander returned. "But there's going to be some guys bring you in here and…I'm not a fan of what they do. I figured I'd give you a chance to talk before they make you. At least talking to me is a little less painful, son."
"I…I'm not talking."
"What's your name?" Drakken asked. The rebel diverted his eyes. "Oh come on. You're not going to lose the war because I know your name."
"Ugh. It's Fertell. Gavin Fertell.
"Alright…Gavin Fertell. I'm not going to press you for everything you know. Those interrogation people will end up doing so, and I'm sorry for that. Really. Just give them enough to chew on, and maybe they won't be so hard on you, alright?" Fertell sighed.
"Yeah…okay."
"Mm. I just want to know a couple things, son." Tharcourt began. "You ever hear of this bird named Skywalker?" Fertell showed no sign that he recognized the name.
"No…I don't know anybody with a name like…that." The mechanic answered.
"You know who blew up the DS-1?"
"The what?"
"You might call it the Death Star?" Drakken clarified.
"Yeah, it was the rebel fleet out on Yavin. I heard about that. You guys stink at building superweapons." Fertell commented.
"Hey, don't look at me. They didn't ask my opinion when they built that thing." The commander said innocently. "So it was the fleet from Yavin-4 that destroyed it?"
"You didn't know that?" Fertell asked blankly. "Hell, I heard we lost half of the fighters on Yavin taking out that thing. Made you people look like asses."
"Yeah…but it also stirred a pot you people are just now starting to smell." Tharcourt warned. "You have no idea what your sedition unleashed when they blew that battle station up."
"Good. Maybe if your kriffin' Empire shows their true colors, more systems will join the rebellion."
"Or they'll learn that breaking the law has consequences." Tharcourt countered. "As does everything." The rebel in the chair huffed. "I guess we have to agree to disagree on that one. I only have one more question, then I'll let you go back to your cell. Maybe get something resembling food."
"What is it?"
"You said you like working on ships. You ever see one of those old Corellian freighters?"
"Hell, I don't know. Yes? I've seen a ton of Corellian freighters in my life."
"Well, I'm looking for one in particular. It would have stopped at your installation sometime in the past couple of months." The man's eyes darted back and forth a couple times. "I take that as a yes."
"I didn't say nothin."
"You didn't have to. You saw the ship."
"I saw two, okay? There was a VCX-100 with some cute Twi'lek girl pilot, and a 1300, I think it was. Both of them were just refuels. We don't ask questions, and I don't know where they came from or where they were going. I just know they were alliance ships."
"How do you know that?"
"We only fueled up and worked on alliance ships."
He stood quietly outside the door of the second interrogation room, smoking a cigarra and preparing himself for another conversation with yet another prisoner. As he interviewed one, the guards would remove the last, replacing them with a fresh one for the commander to speak with. This would be the fourth so far, and Tharcourt didn't feel any closer to finding the answers that he and Lord Vader were searching for.
He had, thus far, only been able to deduce that the ship Vader was searching for had stopped by the rebel base, accompanied by an X-Wing fighter. Both had acquired food, water, and both had refueled, needing full main and auxiliary fuel cells. This meant to him that they planned a long trip. He had his suspicions that the pilot of the X-Wing was the very same person Vader was obsessed with finding, this Skywalker person. Unfortunately, none of the three prisoners he had spoken to knew exactly who the pilot was. The second rebel, a guard, only knew that the pilot was 'some young blonde boy', while the third, another ground crewman remarked that 'he looked like some greenhorn pilot, a young boy, fresh out of books." This didn't fit at all with Drakken's idea of a skilled pilot who could destroy an armored battle station, but he figured he'd mention it in his report to Lord Vader anyway.
"Alright…round four…" Drakken muttered, and entered the room. He noticed immediately that the prisoner was female, and halfway wished that Freya was here, to be less intimidating to the poor young woman. He sat his bundle of clothes on the table and walked to the sink. He poured two cups of water, and placed them on the table near his jacket. Then fetching a chair like before, he sat a few feet in front of the female rebel, studying her for any signs of her occupation or personality. The woman was about thirty years in age, with auburn hair, cut short enough to be out of her eyes and off of her ears. Pale skin, with a mark from a helmet's padding system still on her forehead. She was a pilot. That much was obvious from her black flight suit, still mounted with the control box on the chest. On her forearms, shoulders and legs were plates of some type of metal armor, painted in red and white. On the left pauldron was a symbol, a knife crossed with some sort of leafy branch, all inside a circle.
"Sorry about your ship." Tharcourt began. The rebel woman growled angrily. "I'm not trying to be an ass. I'm serious. I know how pilots love their ships. My pilot thinks the unit shuttle belongs to him." He scoffed. "Won't let anyone else fly her."
"Shab…I guess that's something that transcends the bounds of honorable people then." She remarked.
"What makes you think I'm not honorable?" Tharcourt asked in a mock-hurt tone. "I'll have you know my integrity is very important to me."
"Yeah?" The pilot said back. "Prove it, big guy."
"Well, I've been in the Imperial Navy for eighteen years, and I've never gotten into politicking and backstabbing. I guess that has to count for something." The rebel scoffed. "Alright, what do you call honorable?"
"You know, actually fighting for something just? And having a good clean fight with your enemy, I guess?" She sighed. "You have to respect your enemy."
"And who says I don't?" Drakken asked. "I've met a few of you rebels that I didn't care for at all. Most of you are good fighters. I have to give you that much. You people can put up a scrap, and I do respect that, whether I believe in your reasons or not."
"Where's the other guy?" She asked.
"What other guy?"
"Isn't there always one guy that acts all friendly and junk, then another guy comes in yellin' and slapping me around? That's how this show works, right?" Tharcourt scoffed at her remark. She was feisty for sure.
"There is no…other guy, ma'am. And nobody's gonna slap you around or anything like that." He sighed. "At least I won't. Those interrogation people will, but I won't, so…that's that."
"So why are you here then?" She queried.
"I just wanted to ask you a few questions. Anything you can tell me is going make it easier on you later, when the…less honorable people take you in for questioning."
"You do know I'm not going to turn info on the alliance, right?" She declared. "You people can do what you want to me, but I'm not going to cooperate."
"Your honor."
"Exactly."
"Well…what's your name, ma'am? I'm Commander Tharcourt, Imperial Special Forces."
"I'm Vhen Soorn. I'm of Clan Soorn, House Kast." She said proudly. "Sworn enemies of your Empire."
"You're Mandalorian." Drakken stated, putting it all together. She gave him a condescending nod to the affirmative.
"No karking dwang, genius." She shot.
"I um…I hate to say this," He said, somewhat taken aback. "But I'm kind of honored to meet you. I've heard a lot about your people. It's incredible. I sort of have an interest in different cultures…" He trailed off, realizing that he was starting to sound like some simpering admirer. He cleared his throat. "So yeah, I've heard of your people. Didn't know you were with the rebellion. I heard you joined the Empire a while back, actually." Soorn's face twisted into a furious expression.
"No real Mandalorian would ever swear loyalty to the Empire! That was Gar Saxon and his band of kriffing traitors!" She huffed irritably. "Clan Wren took care of that filth though. That's the way."
"Your people sure don't hold back when it comes to internal disputes, do you?" He said in an off-handed way.
"Mandalorians don't tolerate two things." She returned. "Disloyalty, and some pack of thugs coming in and trying to rule over us. I am a Mandalorian, and by the gods, I will be ruled by Mandalorians!"
"I wish my ensign was here right now." Tharcourt commented. "You two would definitely get along. She's from a warrior race herself. And she's almost as fiery and gutsy as you."
"I'm not in a mood to make friends of Imperial despots…" She said bitterly. "So, where is she, commander…this ensign?"
"She got injured pretty badly when we were taking your base." Drakken admitted. "She went one-on-one with a devaronian and barely came out on top.
"She…she beat Chamock?" Soorn asked incredulously. "In a fight?"
"Killed him." Tharcourt replied. "And if she hadn't been, well…her, she probably would have died from her injuries."
"Damn. Chamock…he was the captain of security there." The Mandalorian said. "Can't believe she beat him in a stand-up fight. You sure?"
"Seen it…at least the end of it." Tharcourt answered.
"Well…I don't know her, but I have to give her my respect." The Mandalorian muttered. Drakken smiled a little.
"Tell you what, I'll make a deal with you, Soorn." He began. "You thirsty?" She didn't answer. "Really, I know they don't treat you rebels well in the brig. You want some water?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Well…how about this; I let you out of that chair and give you some water and a little freedom before you have to deal with the interrogation goon squad. In return, you answer a few questions that won't endanger your rebel fleet, and you promise not to try to kill me."
"And if I do try?"
"Well, you're a Mandalorian, so you'll probably succeed, unless I shoot you in the face first." He shrugged indifferently. "And even if you do, the guards outside and the automated security systems will tear you to shreds before you make it down the hall." He paused. "Kinda hoping you cooperate, ma'am. I don't feel like dying today. It's been too long and weird already." Soorn gave a little, amused smile.
"Alright. Deal." She stated. Drakken nodded, and stood from his chair. He leaned over and prepared to deactivate the restraints on hers.
"I can trust you, right?"
"My word is my bond, Commander Tharcourt." She said. "If I were going to kill you, I would tell you. Then you'd have to be afraid.
"Hm. I like honesty." Tharcourt muttered, and released her bonds with a push of a button. He stepped back quickly, still wary, but the rebel prisoner simply rubbed her wrists and stretched before slowly standing. The commander, never turning his back to her fully, retrieved the two cups of water and handed her one. Then he raised his cup in a celebratory way.
"To honor amongst enemies." He stated. Soorn gave a nod and raised her cup in a toast before taking a drink.
"So, what the hell was it you wanted to know commander?" She asked. "And remember…" She added before he could speak. "Nothing that could endanger the fleet."
"Right." Drakken said, and took a long drink of his own water. "Alright…I'm looking for a guy." The Mandalorian pilot gave him a wry look.
"Never pegged you as that type." She remarked. Tharcourt almost choked on his sip of water.
"Very funny." He grumbled. "I meant that I'm searching for one rebel in particular. A pilot. That's what all of this is about. So, you lead me to him, and I'll do what I can to lessen your sentence."
"Like you could or would." Soorn commented harshly. "Who's the pilot…and why go to all the trouble of raiding a whole base just for one person anyway? Who even does that?"
"Well apparently I do, under orders from superiors I don't want to piss off." Tharcourt replied. She shrugged. Drakken felt oddly at ease talking with this prisoner, Soorn. She was amicable, and he was sure that if she hadn't picked the wrong side in this war, he could get along with her. Hell…Freya would get along well with the Mandalorian. The more he talked with her, the more he noticed how much she had in common with Thorne, and even himself. She was a warrior, and she definitely had the attitude of someone who had seen enough of battle to give her a cynical personality and a gallows-humor that matched his.
He still kept up his guard, just in case. In fact, he held his water in his left hand, his right dangling innocently by his side or gesticulating as he spoke, but never did it stray too far from the blaster on his leg. Despite his wariness though, he felt for reasons he couldn't articulate that he could trust this woman, this rebel. Maybe it was just the fatigue he was feeling, he pondered, messing with his head.
"Helloooo?" Soorn called flippantly. "You okay there, Mister Autocrat?" He raised an eyebrow. "You kind of spaced-out there."
"Oh…yeah." He said, shaking his head. "About 36 hours with no sleep and a mission thrown in there will do that." She smirked a little.
"Oh yeah, every time." She agreed. "Hate to tell you how to do your job, but you gonna get back to interrogating me or what?"
"Yeah…I was going to ask…" Tharcourt began. "Do you know a rebel named Skywalker?"
"Skywalker…" Soorne repeated. "No, I've never heard of them. Should I have?"
"Probably." Tharcourt muttered. "Okay, I'll ask you another. Do you know who blew up that battle station a little while back?"
"I thought it was the fleet that did that…when they were on Yavin-4." She answered. "I wasn't there, but I wish I had been."
"Hm." Tharcourt hummed. This was getting strange. He would chalk it up to the rebels being secretive about the whereabouts of one of their greatest heroes, but the confusion they all displayed at the mention of his name proved that they truly had no idea who he was.
"So, you don't know any of the pilots directly responsible for the operation?"
"Pssh. Not by name, no." Soorne replied. "You guys really want revenge for the death star, don't you?"
"Well…in a word, yes." Drakken said bitterly. "Aside from it being a terrorist attack, some of us had friends and associates on that thing."
"Shouldn't have blown up Alderaan." Soorn stated. "Or is it only okay to kill millions of innocent people if you're the one doing it?" She had a dark and brooding look on her face.
"Alderaan was not one of the Empire's finest moments." Tharcourt muttered. "Why Tarkin did that…"
"And what about Mandalore?" Soorne shot. "Was that one of your finest moments, commander?"
"Mandalore? What happened on Mandalore?" He asked. Drakken had heard nothing about an Imperial battle on the planet, and assumed that the ancient warriors had joined the Empire until this one had informed him otherwise. Soorne scoffed loudly and turned her back on the Imperial officer.
"You're telling me you seriously didn't know."
"I…I don't know what you're talking about." He stated.
"The Night of a Thousand Tears?!" She exclaimed. "The purge of my people?!"
"What?!" Drakken nearly gasped. The notion that the Empire had decimated the admirable race was unthinkable. "Purge…I never heard…what happened?"
"Your beloved Empire is what happened! We wanted to be left alone. We wanted to govern ourselves as we have for millennia. You have no idea what freedom and our way of life mean to us, you kriffing tyrant!"
"What…what have they done…" Tharcourt whispered. Soorne turned and looked at the commander. She caught his words. He had said 'they' instead of 'we', and it seemed strange to her. He had a genuine look of dismay on his face.
"They bombarded our cities into rubble." She said in a hollow, distant voice. "Mowed down thousands of us where we stood with gunships. Any survivors were massacred by the droids sent in to mop up…" He saw the faintest trace of tears form in her blue eyes. "Those of us who were left just...scattered to the winds. I lost everything that night, commander. Most of my family...my clan were killed." She sniffed. "I guess they don't even tell their own people everything they do, huh?"
"No…" Drakken said unhappily. "How did you get away?"
"I hid in the sewers for days, and finally found a working ship." Her tone changed as she took a deep breath and seemed to regain her defiant air. "My parents and I had followed Bo-Katan. It was not Kryze nor any of her people who found me. It was my distant cousin Rook. She took me in for a while and through her I joined The Watch. I swore that I would get even with the Empire for what they did to my people, my clan." She stared directly into Tharcourt's eyes. He saw in hers a mix of hatred and grief that chilled him. "I vowed I would kill you Imperials one-by-one until the stars were tinged red with your blood. Until you paid in full for what you did." Her voice wavered for a moment. "There is no word in Mando'a or basic for what you are…for what you represent."
"I…" Drakken stammered. He felt a lump in his throat, and his stomach was in knots. His eyes stung, wanting to tear-up from the impact of her story. "I am…so sorry…Vhen Soorne…" He said in a low voice. "I didn't know. I would've been against…" He regained his composure a little. "I…I don't have any more questions. I'll give you a little time to…you know, enjoy what freedom you have right now, then I'll send the guards in. I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do…"
"You're not like them." Soorne remarked. She shook her head slowly. "Not a damn bit. You're a good man, Commander Tharcourt." He was silent a moment. That statement hurt like a stab to the heart, with the knowledge he now had.
"No…I'm not." He returned in a whisper. "I'm just a soldier."
"A soldier follows orders. A warrior fights for a reason." Soorne countered. "What's yours?"
"I…I don't…"
"Get out."
"What?" Drakken asked, confused by the statement.
"Get out, Tharcourt." The Mandalorian said. "Leave the Empire. Run from this lie, and fight for something you really believe in." He wanted to argue. He wanted to declare that his allegiance was to the Empire, that they were fighting for peace and order…only the words wouldn't come. They sounded so hollow and feckless in his mind. He took a deep breath and closed the gap between them. Soorne started, and raised her fists to defend herself, but relaxed when Tharcourt only leaned in close.
"Listen to me, and listen good." He began in a low and conspiratorial tone. "The prison transport is your best bet. If you survive questioning here, you'll be taken to a facility for incarceration. I will try to try to stack the deck in your favor, but you'll have to attempt your own escape en route."
"Wh…what are you…"
"Shut up and listen. I'm risking everything telling you this. There's three crew on the small transports; a guard and two pilots. You can overload the circuits in stun cuffs by jamming a thin piece of metal into the charging port. I take it overcoming the guard and pilots won't be an issue for a Mandalorian."
"I…no, I can…yes." She stammered, almost speechless. She watched as he walked to a rack of torture instruments, rummaged around and returned. He placed something in her palm. She glanced down. It was a sliver of metal, a small scalpel blade.
"Keep it hidden until you need it." He advised. "I didn't give this to you. Use it, and run as far away as you can, Soorne."
"Why…why are you helping me?"
"I don't know…" He sighed. "I guess I owe it to you." She gave him a sad smile.
"Your honor."
"Yeah…"
He walked down the hall in silence, his arms folded behind him, his cap pulled low. Drakken didn't like questioning himself. He never did. Second guesses and introspection were best left to people who didn't have a war to win, who could indulge in the luxury of uncertainty. He for damned sure wasn't going to entertain treasonous thoughts. Okay, so that Mandalorian woman had a legitimate excuse to fight against the empire, he had to concede that much. He had broken so many laws helping her that if anybody found out, he would be executed…if he were lucky. That was enough sedition for one day, he reckoned.
Still, the incident with the prisoner had shaken him, and he didn't know why. He let out a low growl, making two navy troopers moving in the opposite direction practically leap aside and salute nervously. Drakken was furious at himself now. If there's one thing he hated, it was hypocrisy. He knew why that rebel's words had gotten to him so badly. He knew exactly why he had risked his neck to help her. Everything he had believed in so deeply in his youth was echoed in that Mandalorian woman's words. She was fighting for the same reason he had so long ago. For her home, her values. And he had committed treason for the second time in a fortnight to uphold the ideals that he used to believe in; to be the person he had always wanted to be.
He sighed, and leaned against the wall for a while as he reflected, watching the occasional officer or pair of stormtroopers walk past. The Empire had its faults, but for all the bad that was created, it was for the greater good, right? It was for peace and security…for order. That conflicted so heavily with everything the commander had been through over the last couple of months. Why had Emperor Palpatine allowed Tarkin to destroy Alderaan? Surely everyone on the planet wasn't in league with the rebels. What about the children…
Tharcourt found a refresher and locked himself inside. He hastily threw water on his face and wiped, mostly smearing what grime had accumulated during the battle. He found a disposable cloth dispenser and dried his face, pausing to look in the mirror. He stared into the eyes of someone he despised. Alderaan. The torture of Freya at the hands of her superior. The terrible death of that little rebel girl. the destruction of Mandalore. He hadn't done those things. He detested them. But here he was, serving the very people who had supported it all. People like Vader…if Vader really was a person under that mask.
Drakken threw the damp cloth across the washroom and kicked the wall. He didn't want this. He didn't want to feel this way, to think like this. He didn't want to be questioning orders, helping the enemy and hating himself for doing his damn job. He was a soldier, and he'd spent his entire life trying to be a damned good one. What good is it to question atrocities in the middle of a kriffing war?! Everyone on both sides commits them. Everyone has their cause, and the winner…
"Yeah…" He muttered to his own reflection. "The winner gets to write the truth." He exhaled sharply and looked down, fixing his gaze absentmindedly on the sink's drain hole. "You did your good deed for the day…" He said to himself. "Now do your duty." He nodded, as if he'd won the argument with himself, and left the refresher.
Tharcourt made his way to his office, and passed by Mets, who was standing guard, without much more than a mumbled greeting. Drakken sat behind his desk and put his head in his hands. What a mess the last couple days had been. He let out a loud laugh at that. Days…what a wreck everything had become since the death star. Now an evil space wizard was in charge of his unit, Freya was in the infirmary having come close to death, and he was losing his mother-kriffing mind. Drakken wanted sleep. He needed it badly. It had been five hours since they had returned to The Accuser. That made forty hours of no sleep, and he could feel every one of them. Still, his mind would not shut up. The door opened, and Sergeant Daraay stepped in slowly. She wasn't wearing her helmet or her armor, and Tharcourt still had not gotten used to seeing her without it.
"Commander?" She greeted in a low voice. "Why are you not resting, sir?"
"I don't know…" He sighed. "Lot on my mind, I guess." Daraay shut the door and stood in front of his desk.
"Are you…okay, sir?" She asked.
"Yes…no…I don't know." He returned tiredly. Daraay sat in front of his desk and she huffed a sigh.
"Please sir…get some rest. You look terrible, and I am afraid your mental state is beginning to suffer due to fatigue."
"My mental state is suffering, alright, but it's not due to fatigue!" Tharcourt shot back. Daraay raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, Meeka…didn't mean to snap like that.
"If you're concerned about Ensign Thorne, I have no doubt that she'll be okay."
"Neither do I." Drakken said. "But she almost died. You know more than anyone that I couldn't handle…"
"I know…sir." Daraay stated. "And…for what it is worth, I'm sorry I wasn't there to back her up. I should not have let her go off on her own like she did. I feel as though I failed…"
"Stop." Drakken ordered, holding up a hand. "You did nothing wrong, Daraay. Nobody did. Freya handled that situation better than I would have. Other than you, any one of us would have been killed by that rebel." He took a deep breath. "No, it's just that we came so close to having two funerals today…and for what? We were sent in to kill fifty rebels to find a single man. Why not just glass the place if he thought Skywalker was there?"
"I don't know, sir." The death trooper answered. "But I get the feeling that the mission…and Thorne are not the only things on your mind."
"You're um…you're too good, sergeant." Tharcourt returned. "I uh…I don't know what I'm thinking, and I wish Thorne was here…she listens to me ramble on, you know."
"Well sir…" Daraay said, "…I'm not Thorne, but if you need to talk." He smiled a little. She had come so far…
"Tell me, Daraay…" He began, "…back before you joined the team…you um…you ever kill children?" He heard the tall woman breathe in deeply. Her eyes stared forward coldly.
"Yes…sir." She replied in a detached tone.
"I don't hold it against you, Meeka." He stated. "That was who you were, not who you are now." She nodded. "Is it…is it treasonous to question why we kill children…innocent people?"
"I don't know." She muttered.
"Why did the Empire destroy Alderaan? Mandalore?" He asked rhetorically. "Why do we do these things?"
"A message to our enemies…I think, sir." She answered.
"And what is that message, Meeka? That if you disagree with anything we do, we will come and take away everything you love?"
"I think…that is the very purpose of it…commander…sir." Daraay said hesitatingly.
"Then what are we bringing to this galaxy?" He asked. "Peace? Happiness?"
"Sir, the rebels are in open sedition against the galaxy, are they not? They are terrorists."
"Yes, they are!" He exclaimed. "They are terrorists and murderers and thieves, and so are we!" He slumped in his chair, and shook his head sadly. "I…hate government so…" He looked up and caught the death trooper's expression. "Not the Empire…or not just the Empire. All governments. All any of them want to do is fight and kill, and the ones in charge end up with more power and more credits, and everybody else gets kriffed."
"Well…why do you fight, sir?" Daraay asked. "If you dislike it so much?"
"I don't dislike it! I want to fight, so that everybody in this galaxy doesn't have to be afraid anymore." He said truthfully. "I want peace, and I want to kill anyone who breaks it! I want to stop all of these stupid coups and counter coups and wars! I want everyone to stop killing each other and enslaving one another and I want everyone to…" He realized how worked up he was getting and took a breath to calm himself. "…to not be afraid."
"That is probably impossible." She said sadly. "It seems that is just what sentients do."
"Yeah…" Tharcourt whispered. "And I am so good at it." He stood from his chair and walked about the small room a bit. Daraay noticed that his movements were sluggish.
"Commander Tharcourt?"
"Yes…Daraay?" He returned.
"First, I must insist that you get some rest. You are dangerously close to collapse. Secondly, are you aware that you just pretty much stated in your loud manifesto…that you want peace and love throughout the galaxy…and that you are willing to kill and destroy everything in the way of those things to obtain them." She saw his eyes roll up a little, and an amused smile crossed his face.
"Yes…I suppose I did say that." He admitted. "Rather silly, isn't it?" He stumbled a bit, and caught himself from falling by grabbing the corner of his desk. "I think…I'm in need of rest, Sergeant Daraay." She stood, and put an arm around his shoulders, practically hefting him off the ground one-handed.
"Then lean on me, sir." She said. "That is what I am here for."
What an emotional chapter. If Commander Tharcourt doesn't stop fraternizing with rebel prisoners, he may just lose his love of the Empire. To be fair, who wouldn't disregard duty to help a Mandalorian though? Especially one who is a member of a certain sect containing one of our favorite bounty-hunting, Grogu-rescuing warriors.
What did everyone think about getting to see the softer side of one of the toughest characters in the story? Daraay has really had one of those quiet character arcs throughout this whole thing, and though it hasn't been at the forefront, she has probably changed the most of all the troopers after joining Delta-7.
I'll have the next chapter up in a couple of days. Stay tuned, for in the next epic installment of this harrowing tale, Drakken talks to people...and stuff happens. And Piett eats fish. So don't forget to tune in next time, loyal readers! Till then, cheerio!