Ah, feedback, lovely feedback! (Actually, Scheherezade, my definition of a "lovely review" is simply any sort of positive response that's not a flame.) And thank you, everyone!
Oh, and sorry about the minor wait. The Internet's been down most of the night, not to mention the fact that Spring Breaks tend to breed laziness on the part of certain authors...
Well, Chapter 6 is not as humorous as the others (although there's a few lighthearted bits). Some of it was inspired from watching old World War II movies from the 1960s. But there's stuff about Thrawn and the Imperials in this chapter, as well as a nice semi-political debate!
Chapter 6: Good Guys and Bad Guys
"Old soldiers never die, they only fade away."
--[I actually forgot where this quote comes from. If anyone knows, please
tell me. Thanks!]
"Hey, why are there stormtroopers in the background?" Sorias asked, knowing the answer perfectly well. "And why's Rolan's look-alike wearing an Imperial uniform?"
The question hung in the air, oppressive and stifling.
"Take a wild guess," Jaec muttered sarcastically.
Rolan came back to his senses and looked at the picture caption. "Admiral Thrawn disembarks in disgrace, headed toward a mapping expedition in the Unknown Regions," he read aloud, his tone emotionless.
Rolan had heard of the infamous Grand Admiral Thrawn. Although the Great War had been before his time, Thrawn had been mentioned a few times in his History of the New Republic class—
(a biased Rebel-affiliated source)
—and apparently Thrawn had been one of the Empire's greatest military leaders. Rolan had heard that Thrawn was an alien...but an alien of his species? Such a trick of fate seemed impossible. Rolan examined the picture some more, searching for answers.
Despite the fact that he was clearly disgraced, Thrawn's posture was poised and self-assured. His eyes were bright, seeming to bore right into you, and his shoulders were straight with precise military discipline and great self-confidence. He seemed to project an aura of wisdom and courage—almost as if he feared nothing...and knew everything.
That clearly wasn't a trait of Rolan's species, for Rolan was often greatly confused, though his dignity—and, yes, his pride as well—forbade him from showing his ignorance.
(A leader must always show confidence, or risk damaging his crew's morale.)
His crew's morale...Rolan looked to the men around Thrawn, for Rolan knew that someone could always find out a leader's competence by examining the people who followed him. Next to the admiral was a middle-aged officer (a ranking commander) with an expression every bit as confident as Thrawn's.
(Commander Voss Parck.)
But the man (a captain) on the other side of Thrawn had a much different expression. It was an look of fear, annoyance, and even outright hatred for the alien next to him.
(Captain Dagon Niriz.)
Rolan scrutinized every last detail of the picture, as if engraving it into his memory...or searching for useful information.
—Admiral Thrawn looked out across the field, surveying the troops at his command. The cold air of Coruscant stung, made no less harsh by the mocking stares of the few civilians come to see them off. A reporter snapped a bright HoloPic of him from somewhere in the group...—
"Thrawn?" Jaec asked, jolting Rolan out of his incoherent thoughts. "Wasn't that the same guy who attacked the Republic ten-something years ago?"
"Yes," Rolan replied quietly. "I remember hearing about that in history class."
"You must have been asleep when we learned about him, Jaec," Sorias said, with a vain attempt at humor.
"But I thought there weren't any alien Imperials," Jaec protested. "The Emperor thought aliens were 'inferior' or something. No offense, Rolan."
"Thrawn was the only one," Rolan replied, his voice almost too soft to be heard as his eyes blazed intensely, focused on the picture of the alien Imperial.
"He was the guy who everybody thought came back from the dead too, right? About three years ago?"
"Yes. Three years ago." Rolan still didn't look at them. His face was frozen, practically etched in stone. Memories sprang from the darkness, assaulting all sense of reason:
The Hand of Thrawn. Nirauan. The Household Phalanx. Admiral Voss—
Jaec gripped his friend's shoulder, snapping him out of his reverie. "Are you okay, Rolan?"
Rolan took a deep breath, and seemed to become his old self again.
"Yes," the blue-skinned boy replied, forcing a grin. "I'm fine. It's just...I never thought that the only link to my people would be..." he trailed off, shaking his head. "Just my bad luck, I suppose... Well, some good can come of this. At least it's something I can freak out Pryko with. I'd love to see her face, if she knew..." Rolan grinned, making an attempt at humor, even if it was somewhat bitter.
Jaec and Sorias grinned back, relieved. Though Jaec was too proud to admit it, Rolan had really worried him a few seconds ago, going off into that weird trance-like state.
Sorias moved to turn off the computer.
"Wait," Rolan directed, holding up a blue-skinned hand. "What's the name of the species? The name of my species?"
"I don't know," Sorias replied sadly. "It only says 'Species Unknown'."
There was a long, almost painful, silence.
"Let's go," Jaec said, hurrying to break the solemn atmosphere. "My mom's probably cooking dinner. And I think tonight we get cake. With Alderaanian chocolate."
"Alderaanian chocolate?" Sorias repeated, leaning forward eagerly. There was nothing like chocolate to take one's mind off troubles.
"Yeah," Jaec replied. "Let's get home before my dad eats it all. C'mon, Rolan."
Rolan looked at the picture one last time, then rose to join his friends.
"Eat, Rolan, eat," Jaec's mother urged, holding out the stew pot. Rolan obediently helped himself to more, despite the fact that he wasn't hungry. Ellaen Forton smiled encouragingly.
"Shhhowwaskooltday?" asked Jaec's father, Cale Forton, after taking a huge bite of nerf meat. His wife shot him a reproving look, and Cale immediately wiped his mouth and repeated, "So how was school today, boys?"
"Boring," Jaec replied bluntly.
"Okay," said Sorias, with his usual optimism.
"Fine," responded Rolan, his tone perfectly neutral.
"How was that Spatial Geometry test?"
"Er...what Geometry test?" Jaec asked, feigning ignorance. Seeing the look on his parents' faces, he quickly added, "Just kidding. I got a ninety."
"Good job," Jaec's mother enthused, knowing how difficult her son found mathematics.
"Well...Rolan tutored me," Jaec admitted. "He deserves some credit."
Rolan turned to his friend, one bluish-black eyebrow raised. "You were the one who studied, Jaec. I merely gave you some tips."
Some tips indeed. Rolan had practically had to explain the entire chapter to him. Jaec just wasn't good at thinking in mathematical terms.
Meanwhile, Rolan was always parsecs ahead of everyone, even in things not relating to schoolwork. Jaec had a feeling Rolan could sleep through every class and still ace them. But there was something else about him as well...Jaec didn't know how to explain it, but sometimes Rolan seemed...older, somehow. More experienced. Wiser.
Jaec shook of the sensation and turned back to the conversation, which had progressed to recent news events.
"Did you hear about the Imperial-Republic naval exchange program?" Mr. Forton asked.
"Yes," Rolan and Sorias replied, nodding sagely.
"Isn't it supposed to "foster a spirit of cooperation" or something like that?" Jaec asked.
"Yeah," Sorias replied. "Isn't it great? Maybe now there'll be peace." Typical Sorias, ever the naïve and philosophical pacifist.
"It won't come that easily," Jaec argued. "We were at war for nearly two decades. Besides, everyone knows those Imperials are a bunch of two-timing bigots. They're just lying to us."
"I don't think so," Rolan interrupted, the slightest undercurrent of indignation present in his voice. "The one who orchestrated the peace treaty—Admiral Pellaeon—isn't that sort of man. He is an able military commander, used to bluntly stating his intentions through combat. He is not used to the double-dealing ways of politicians."
Jaec bit back a "how do you know" retort and gazed at his friend. It wasn't the time to argue with him. The poor guy had just found out that the only link to his people was some dead Imperial warlord. The universe clearly wasn't being kind to Rolan right now.
"I believe that the exchange program will work," Rolan stated suddenly. "It will give the men of both sides a chance to fight together, for common goals. And fighting side-by-side usually brings out a spirit of camaraderie between soldiers, no matter how different their backgrounds."
Cale Forton looked in astonishment at the young blue-skinned teenager before him. He sounded like he understood. Cale had fought through the War, as an infantryman, no less, and he knew how the stresses of battle always managed to form diverse men and women into trusted comrades. But Rolan's generation had not been old enough to truly experience the War while it had been fought. No one who hadn't lived through war could come close to comprehending what it was like.
But Rolan seemed to. Rolan's expression, Cale saw, briefly seemed like that of an older man. A soldier. Someone who knew what it was like to fight, to kill, to suffer for their beliefs. It was an expression Cale had never seen on a boy of Rolan's age.
Cale felt himself unconsciously remembering his years at war...
Rolan looked back at Cale for a moment, his bright red eyes meeting Cale's weathered brown ones. It was a look of perfect understanding. Like Cale, Rolan too seemed to be lost in old memories. Cale briefly wondered what sort of experiences Rolan had endured to become the boy—the man—who sat before him.
The moment passed for a moment, and Rolan looked away, his brow furrowed with sudden confusion.
"It's progress," Ellaen declared, jolting everyone out of their thoughts.
"Yes," Sorias agreed fervently. "Just think what we'll all be able to do once we stop shooting at each other and work together. We could really do something!"
"But the War won't be forgotten overnight," Cale murmured. "We've fought for too long to accept each other with open arms."
"And who wants to accept the Empire anyway?" interrupted Jaec. "They're...Imperials! They destroyed Alderaan! They've killed billions of people and committed countless crimes! Who wants to ally with a bunch of murderers?!"
Rolan jumped up, his self-discipline forgotten. His scarlet eyes bored into Jaec's, pools of seemingly-unprovoked anger.
"Typical Republican propaganda," Rolan scoffed, his voice unusually indignant. Rolan had never yelled so loudly before. "You're a victim of propaganda, Jaec," he continued, his voice growing softer and more precise, his tone changing from fury to a sort of cool calmness. His words were strangely compelling. "You have always been taught that the Empire is bad, that everyone who serves it is a cold-hearted killer. But the Empire was never about power or hatred! It was once about Order, and preserving peace in the galaxy! Sure, some power-hungry Grand Moffs used their offices to achieve their own ends, and the Empire eventually grew corrupt. But the True Empire began as something quite different. You see, after the Old Republic collapsed, the galaxy was in a state of chaos, and someone needed to restore order..."
Rolan trailed off, realizing the weird looks everyone was giving him. Even he himself was confused by what he had said. Had he just been defending the Empire? Was he insane?
"But all those Imperials fought for Palpatine!" Jaec retorted. "Do you know how crazy the Emperor was?! Why would they support such a freak?"
"Because they thought that they were fighting for the True Empire," Rolan replied, his voice soft. "They did not realize that, as the Empire grew older, Palpatine and many of his close circle had corrupted everything the Empire once stood for."
It was quite tragic, when one thought about it. How many loyal, capable stormtroopers had been sacrificed by pompous glory-seeking Moffs on badly-planned missions against people who posed no threat to the Empire? The Empire had clearly needed a stronger leader than Palpatine. A leader who could correct its problems.
(Something he intended to do...)
A leader that had not been found...until recently, it seemed. For this Supreme Commander Pellaeon seemed like an Imperial of the "old school", one with traditional goals and ideas.
Rolan gazed at Sorias, Jaec, and the two elder Fortons who had become almost surrogate parents to him. In their faces, he saw the effects of a lifetime of Republic brainwashing and propaganda.
Sorias looked a cross between thoughtful and confused by his ideas. Meanwhile, Jaec was shocked and angered to hear words so contrary to everything he'd ever been taught. Rolan could see that, with time, Sorias could break through his biased beliefs. But Jaec probably never would.
Rolan suddenly felt supremely wise, yet burdened as well. Burdened...with the obligation to help his friends think beyond their narrow-minded stereotypes.
That day had been the most notable one in Rolan's young life. It was the first time his friends saw him as anything but the average high school kid they had believed him to be.
It was also the first time that Rolan began to doubt the New Republic that he had been raised in.
*dun dun dun* And the plot thickens...
Well, the high school escapades were fun to write, but now 'tis time to briefly return to the wonderful world of action and intrigue. (The high school scenes are far from over, though, so don't worry!) Next in Chapter 7, we have an..."interesting"...field trip, not to mention another clue to Rolan's past and even one of his "flashbacks".
(minor side note: all the Fett fans out there are going to have to wait til Chapter 9 to see him again. But, once he appears then, he'll be showing up a LOT more...Oh, and Captain Tiers will return soon as well.)
(another minor side note: Chapter 7 probably won't appear for a week. I'll try to write ahead during the few days left of Spring Break, but I have homework to finish as well...)
