CHAPTER 2: The Occupation
Three months had passed since Sabre Von Rubin had taken control of Kalaador, and the face of the planet had changed. The major metropolis of Kaldonia had been changed into a military camp, where beleaguered stormtroopers took out their post-raid aggression on the local townsfolk. The Crystal Palace itself had been altered as well, for now it served as Von Rubin's personal headquarters. The crystalline spires of the Royal home were now replaced with tall, tritanium gun turrets and guard towers all emblazoned with the Imperial symbol. Even the people of Kalaador changed with their homeworld. Where once a happy, vibrant community thrived, now in its place, there was despair and a palpable gloom.
However, one of the few places that had remained the same was the Glass Forest. This place was a sanctuary, a protected land according to the letter of Kalaador law. Von Rubin had left this one place alone in order to "foster goodwill" with the townsfolk. In other words, he didn't want them to have any more reason to rebel than they already had.
This sanctuary was the one place Raa'chel Kalaador could come to escape Von Rubin's tyranny. More than anything or anyone else on the planet, Raa'chel had changed the most. No longer was she able to enjoy the station of her past. She was little more than a figurehead now; Von Rubin held all the power. She seemed considerably diminshed, not near as arrogant.
She hadn't been this depressed since her mother's death. She sat, perched on one of the crystal formations on the Glass Forest, immersed in silent reverie. Nothing in her life made any sense now. Her father had lost all power (and all backbone, it seemed), she had to answer to a man she loathed. Von Rubin sickened her. He seemed to revel in all the chaos he was causing. He never failed to pass a cruel smile her way whenever their paths crossed in the Palace.
She cast her gaze upward, fighting back her tears. Overhead flew a formation of TIE fighters on combat practice. "Funny," she thought, "even the sky is mocking me." But there was hope. That hope was contained in the small backpack she had slung over shoulder. In it, she packed everything she thought she would need. Imperial credits, changes of clothes, and just in case, a small holdout blaster.
All these things she would need, for today, she was going to escape Kalaador to find this "Rebellion." She was sure they'd help her get her planet back. They had to; she was, after all, a princess.
"Princess? Princess, come out here at once!"
Raa'chel rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. "Go away, Uncle," she called.
"Uncle" was the name of the Princess' nanny-droid, U-3PO. A purple-chrome protocol droid, he had been programmed since Raa'chel's birth to instruct her in the ways of being a princess. Unfortunately, his attitude toward her had not been updated. Indeed, he still treated her like she was only five years old.
"You do not speak to me that way, young lady! Now, come down from that rock. You're getting filthy!" he exclaimed.
Raa'chel grabbed her pack and slid down from the rock. She took a few steps toward the flustered droid and said, "Sorry Uncle, I just needed some time to myself."
"Well you could have done that in your room, my dear. Lord Von Rubin has been looking for you." Uncle said.
Raa'chel scoffed. "So? I don't care if he's been tearing the castle apart hunting for me! I want nothing to do with that hideous creature who's controlling my home!"
Uncle gasped. Or at least, he did what passed for gasping; he was a droid after all. "You should not speak that way about our guest! You would do well to remember that he is a dignitary, and according to Kalaador protocol-"
"Protocol?!?" Raa'chel had heard enough. "Protocol has gone completely out the window, Uncle! He's not our guest, he's a tyrant! A-a usurper! He's stolen our throne!"
"Stop that at once, young lady! You will treat the Imperial dignitary with respect this instant! Now come, Lord Von Rubin is looking for you!" With that, Uncle turned and started back toward that Crystal Palace.
"No."
Uncle was sure his auditory circuit had failed. She couldn't have just said that. Turning back to the princess, who was slinging her pack back over her shoulder, he said "What did you just say?"
Raa'chel's face was set. She repeated, "No. I'm leaving to find help." She then turned in the direction of Kaldonia and started to walk away. She was going to contact the Rebellion, one way or another. Uncle stood and watched her walk away, frozen with shock. He could not believe it; she was not listening to him.
"You come back here at once!" he called as loud as his voice modulator would allow. Princess Raa'chel continued to walk away from the droid, away from the only life she'd ever known. "Princess! Come back!"
Raa'chel kept walking, tears rolling down her cheeks.
* * *
Sabre was sure his head was going to explode.
"I did what you asked, my Lord, I tried to bring her back to the palace, but she would not listen. I said, 'You must respect Lord Von Rubin's wishes', but she was adamant about leaving! I have never, in all my years, seen her-"
"SILENCE!!!"
Sabre couldn't take the droid's whining any longer. He steadied himself, massaging his temples. He had failed Lord Vader, and he knew it. The Princess was going to seek out the Rebellion, he was sure of it. And since the Rebels wouldn't dare establish a base under his nose, that meant she was heading for Kaldonia to find a pilot to get her past his Star Destroyer.
Sabre did not share the opinions of the Imperial Advisors, fools that they were. To think that the Rebellion was too weak and unorganized to defeat the Empire was folly. If the Rebellion could destroy the Emperor's prized battle station, and escape the combined might of the Imperial Fleet, they surely needed reevaulation. Sabre did not fear the Rebellion himself, he had the Force after all. But acoording to Lord Vader, so did the Rebellion. Someone called Skywalker destroyed the Death Star. But he served the Light Side of the Force. Weak. Powerless to crush the might of the Dark Side.
Still, Sabre knew that the Iron Hand would not stand long against a Rebellion strike. They had more military capacity than the Imperial Fleet was willing to admit. He had to report this change in situation to Lord Vader. But first things first.
"So, after she made her intentions clear to you, droid, you let her escape?" Sabre said, trying to harness his anger.
Uncle felt his nervousness program go online. If droids could quake with fear, he certainly would be right now. "Well, my Lord, as I-I explained. She-she wanted to find help, there was nothing I could have done. Forgive me, sir," he stammered.
Sabre stood up, a curious smile on his face. He looked over to the nearest stormtrooper. Finally, keeping his gaze on the stormtrooper's weapon, he spoke to Uncle. "I see. Well, then I see no other alternative. You have allowed the princess to escape, and have therefore, betrayed me."
Uncle took a step back. "No! I tried to-"
In an instant, Sabre shot out his hand and the stormtrooper's blaster leapt from its owner, and flew into Sabre's outstretched palm. He quickly turned the weapon on Uncle, and in a hail of blaster fire, he disintegrated the droid where he stood.
Sighing, he beckoned the stormtrooper over. The trooper marched to his superior and said, "Sir?"
"Make contact with the Executor. Lord Vader's personal channel. Then, alert the garrison in Kaldonia to be on watch for the Princess. Orders are to capture. No disintegrations. I want her alive," Sabre ordered.
"Yes sir!" The stormtrooper hurried off to make the arrangements.
Sabre then said, "And, Sargeant?"
The trooper turned back to him. "Something else, my Lord.?"
Sabre looked to the pile of burning, purple-chrome slag that was smoking up the throne room. "Have someone clean that up."
+ * * *
Sabre approached the holoprojector room. He took a deep steadying breath. Lord Vader did not like hearing about failure. The last time that Sabre had failed Darth Vader, he was nearly asphyxiated by Vader's Force grip. Sabre automatically massaged his throat and entered the room.
Sabre crossed the room, removing his cloak. In moments, he had knelt down on the transmitter pad. A moment later, the holoprojector had activated. The ghastly visage of Lord Vader's respirator mask had filled the room, and it seemed to make Sabre even smaller and more diminished. The sound of Vader's mechanically-regulated breathing resonated in Sabre's ears like a thousand angry ghosts. He did not sound happy.
"Report, my disciple," came the low voice of Darth Vader.
"There has been a setback," Sabre began. "Raa'chel Kalaador has escaped, my Lord. She has intentions of finding the Rebellion. My troops are already on their way to capture her and return-" Sabre felt his throat constrict. Vader was crushing his larynx with the Force, even across light-years.
"I have told you the price of failure, Sabre. I do not tolerate failure," Vader said calmly.
Sabre began to choke. He felt blood rising in his throat as his windpipe closed off. "Please-my Lord-mercy," he croaked out.
Instantly, his throat relaxed. Sabre collapsed to the transmitter pad, clutching his throat.
Vader said sharply, "Get off your hands. I do not tolerate weakness, either, Von Rubin."
Sabre focused his rage and his loathing for Vader into a useful form. He felt the Dark Side of the Force feed off his anger and humiliation at being weak in front of his master. He focused that energy into a strengthening power. He lifted himself off his hands and faced Vader again.
Vader's visage loomed in closer to Sabre's face. "Find the Princess. Do not fail me again."
With that, Vader disappeared. The communication line was closed. Sabre stood, albeit slowly, and traced the scar that ran his face. He would kill Vader someday, he knew that, but for now, he would carry out his master's orders. And as for the Princess, she would suffer dearly for this insult.
Three months had passed since Sabre Von Rubin had taken control of Kalaador, and the face of the planet had changed. The major metropolis of Kaldonia had been changed into a military camp, where beleaguered stormtroopers took out their post-raid aggression on the local townsfolk. The Crystal Palace itself had been altered as well, for now it served as Von Rubin's personal headquarters. The crystalline spires of the Royal home were now replaced with tall, tritanium gun turrets and guard towers all emblazoned with the Imperial symbol. Even the people of Kalaador changed with their homeworld. Where once a happy, vibrant community thrived, now in its place, there was despair and a palpable gloom.
However, one of the few places that had remained the same was the Glass Forest. This place was a sanctuary, a protected land according to the letter of Kalaador law. Von Rubin had left this one place alone in order to "foster goodwill" with the townsfolk. In other words, he didn't want them to have any more reason to rebel than they already had.
This sanctuary was the one place Raa'chel Kalaador could come to escape Von Rubin's tyranny. More than anything or anyone else on the planet, Raa'chel had changed the most. No longer was she able to enjoy the station of her past. She was little more than a figurehead now; Von Rubin held all the power. She seemed considerably diminshed, not near as arrogant.
She hadn't been this depressed since her mother's death. She sat, perched on one of the crystal formations on the Glass Forest, immersed in silent reverie. Nothing in her life made any sense now. Her father had lost all power (and all backbone, it seemed), she had to answer to a man she loathed. Von Rubin sickened her. He seemed to revel in all the chaos he was causing. He never failed to pass a cruel smile her way whenever their paths crossed in the Palace.
She cast her gaze upward, fighting back her tears. Overhead flew a formation of TIE fighters on combat practice. "Funny," she thought, "even the sky is mocking me." But there was hope. That hope was contained in the small backpack she had slung over shoulder. In it, she packed everything she thought she would need. Imperial credits, changes of clothes, and just in case, a small holdout blaster.
All these things she would need, for today, she was going to escape Kalaador to find this "Rebellion." She was sure they'd help her get her planet back. They had to; she was, after all, a princess.
"Princess? Princess, come out here at once!"
Raa'chel rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. "Go away, Uncle," she called.
"Uncle" was the name of the Princess' nanny-droid, U-3PO. A purple-chrome protocol droid, he had been programmed since Raa'chel's birth to instruct her in the ways of being a princess. Unfortunately, his attitude toward her had not been updated. Indeed, he still treated her like she was only five years old.
"You do not speak to me that way, young lady! Now, come down from that rock. You're getting filthy!" he exclaimed.
Raa'chel grabbed her pack and slid down from the rock. She took a few steps toward the flustered droid and said, "Sorry Uncle, I just needed some time to myself."
"Well you could have done that in your room, my dear. Lord Von Rubin has been looking for you." Uncle said.
Raa'chel scoffed. "So? I don't care if he's been tearing the castle apart hunting for me! I want nothing to do with that hideous creature who's controlling my home!"
Uncle gasped. Or at least, he did what passed for gasping; he was a droid after all. "You should not speak that way about our guest! You would do well to remember that he is a dignitary, and according to Kalaador protocol-"
"Protocol?!?" Raa'chel had heard enough. "Protocol has gone completely out the window, Uncle! He's not our guest, he's a tyrant! A-a usurper! He's stolen our throne!"
"Stop that at once, young lady! You will treat the Imperial dignitary with respect this instant! Now come, Lord Von Rubin is looking for you!" With that, Uncle turned and started back toward that Crystal Palace.
"No."
Uncle was sure his auditory circuit had failed. She couldn't have just said that. Turning back to the princess, who was slinging her pack back over her shoulder, he said "What did you just say?"
Raa'chel's face was set. She repeated, "No. I'm leaving to find help." She then turned in the direction of Kaldonia and started to walk away. She was going to contact the Rebellion, one way or another. Uncle stood and watched her walk away, frozen with shock. He could not believe it; she was not listening to him.
"You come back here at once!" he called as loud as his voice modulator would allow. Princess Raa'chel continued to walk away from the droid, away from the only life she'd ever known. "Princess! Come back!"
Raa'chel kept walking, tears rolling down her cheeks.
* * *
Sabre was sure his head was going to explode.
"I did what you asked, my Lord, I tried to bring her back to the palace, but she would not listen. I said, 'You must respect Lord Von Rubin's wishes', but she was adamant about leaving! I have never, in all my years, seen her-"
"SILENCE!!!"
Sabre couldn't take the droid's whining any longer. He steadied himself, massaging his temples. He had failed Lord Vader, and he knew it. The Princess was going to seek out the Rebellion, he was sure of it. And since the Rebels wouldn't dare establish a base under his nose, that meant she was heading for Kaldonia to find a pilot to get her past his Star Destroyer.
Sabre did not share the opinions of the Imperial Advisors, fools that they were. To think that the Rebellion was too weak and unorganized to defeat the Empire was folly. If the Rebellion could destroy the Emperor's prized battle station, and escape the combined might of the Imperial Fleet, they surely needed reevaulation. Sabre did not fear the Rebellion himself, he had the Force after all. But acoording to Lord Vader, so did the Rebellion. Someone called Skywalker destroyed the Death Star. But he served the Light Side of the Force. Weak. Powerless to crush the might of the Dark Side.
Still, Sabre knew that the Iron Hand would not stand long against a Rebellion strike. They had more military capacity than the Imperial Fleet was willing to admit. He had to report this change in situation to Lord Vader. But first things first.
"So, after she made her intentions clear to you, droid, you let her escape?" Sabre said, trying to harness his anger.
Uncle felt his nervousness program go online. If droids could quake with fear, he certainly would be right now. "Well, my Lord, as I-I explained. She-she wanted to find help, there was nothing I could have done. Forgive me, sir," he stammered.
Sabre stood up, a curious smile on his face. He looked over to the nearest stormtrooper. Finally, keeping his gaze on the stormtrooper's weapon, he spoke to Uncle. "I see. Well, then I see no other alternative. You have allowed the princess to escape, and have therefore, betrayed me."
Uncle took a step back. "No! I tried to-"
In an instant, Sabre shot out his hand and the stormtrooper's blaster leapt from its owner, and flew into Sabre's outstretched palm. He quickly turned the weapon on Uncle, and in a hail of blaster fire, he disintegrated the droid where he stood.
Sighing, he beckoned the stormtrooper over. The trooper marched to his superior and said, "Sir?"
"Make contact with the Executor. Lord Vader's personal channel. Then, alert the garrison in Kaldonia to be on watch for the Princess. Orders are to capture. No disintegrations. I want her alive," Sabre ordered.
"Yes sir!" The stormtrooper hurried off to make the arrangements.
Sabre then said, "And, Sargeant?"
The trooper turned back to him. "Something else, my Lord.?"
Sabre looked to the pile of burning, purple-chrome slag that was smoking up the throne room. "Have someone clean that up."
+ * * *
Sabre approached the holoprojector room. He took a deep steadying breath. Lord Vader did not like hearing about failure. The last time that Sabre had failed Darth Vader, he was nearly asphyxiated by Vader's Force grip. Sabre automatically massaged his throat and entered the room.
Sabre crossed the room, removing his cloak. In moments, he had knelt down on the transmitter pad. A moment later, the holoprojector had activated. The ghastly visage of Lord Vader's respirator mask had filled the room, and it seemed to make Sabre even smaller and more diminished. The sound of Vader's mechanically-regulated breathing resonated in Sabre's ears like a thousand angry ghosts. He did not sound happy.
"Report, my disciple," came the low voice of Darth Vader.
"There has been a setback," Sabre began. "Raa'chel Kalaador has escaped, my Lord. She has intentions of finding the Rebellion. My troops are already on their way to capture her and return-" Sabre felt his throat constrict. Vader was crushing his larynx with the Force, even across light-years.
"I have told you the price of failure, Sabre. I do not tolerate failure," Vader said calmly.
Sabre began to choke. He felt blood rising in his throat as his windpipe closed off. "Please-my Lord-mercy," he croaked out.
Instantly, his throat relaxed. Sabre collapsed to the transmitter pad, clutching his throat.
Vader said sharply, "Get off your hands. I do not tolerate weakness, either, Von Rubin."
Sabre focused his rage and his loathing for Vader into a useful form. He felt the Dark Side of the Force feed off his anger and humiliation at being weak in front of his master. He focused that energy into a strengthening power. He lifted himself off his hands and faced Vader again.
Vader's visage loomed in closer to Sabre's face. "Find the Princess. Do not fail me again."
With that, Vader disappeared. The communication line was closed. Sabre stood, albeit slowly, and traced the scar that ran his face. He would kill Vader someday, he knew that, but for now, he would carry out his master's orders. And as for the Princess, she would suffer dearly for this insult.