Hello everyonion! As promised, I'm back with the next installment of 'Imperials'. I hope you all liked the last one, and now can we leave the the galaxy's best ISB officer, and get back to our regular players. So grab a cup of tea and enjoy the chapter! I own nothing but my OC's.
"How are you feeling, Freya?" Drakken asked as the two walked down the corridor side-by-side. Thorne smiled and rolled her eyes a little.
"I'm feelin' a lot better, Drakken." She replied. "E'en more so than two minutes ago when last ye asked me."
"Oh." He muttered, and his face momentarily betrayed the awkwardness he felt. "Sorry, I just…"
"I know, yer worried sick about me." She returned, and noticed his expression. "It's alright, Drakken, I'll tell ye, darlin'…if it were you instead a' me up in that funny blue goo, I'd a' been there bitin' me nails down ta' the bone. If I haen'ta plain dropped dead of me heart seein' ya busted up as I was." Drakken smiled and breathed out a small laugh.
"Yeah…" He said reflectively. "That wasn't the cheeriest time of my life there." His eyes stayed on her for a few moments longer as they walked. Indeed, she seemed to be in good health now. The medical team had spent nearly an hour examining her after her bacta treatment to ensure that she had made a full recovery, and was fit for duty. In that time, she had recovered most of her strength, and her senses had all returned to normal. Like Vayne had predicted, Freya had come out of the treatment with some soreness around the spots she'd been injured, and she had a slight headache. Walking around the ship had seemed to ease the tenderness of her previous injuries, and after a good meal and three glasses of water, Thorne had claimed that her headache had all but disappeared.
Now, as they stalked through the halls of the ship a little longer, he could see that something was troubling her. Several times so far, he'd caught Freya casting him these odd, sad little glances. Then she'd look away, her lips flicking almost imperceptibly into half-hearted smiles. It was almost like she wanted to tell him something, but couldn't find the will to do so.
He wondered what could be weighing so heavily on her mind. Was she feeling bad about getting injured? Was it some regret about the mission? They hadn't had time to discuss what had happened yet, but they would soon be back in the office, and he planned on talking with her in private. They reached the door leading to the team's commons room, and Felian stood guard outside the hatch. He greeted Thorne dutifully, and opened the door. The two stepped in to find Gallen and Ekks practically cornered on a bench by Mets, Coleth and Lago.
"I know she got hurt taking out a big reb, but I call bantha scat, man…" Gallen stated dryly. It was obvious that none of them were aware that Tharcourt and Thorne had just entered the room.
"You weren't there, Gallen." Mets said in an almost reverent tone. "I saw it, and if you were there, you'd be willin' to follow that girl into a black hole. First, I hear she saved Daraay, for crick's sake. Then…you should have seen that alien she wasted."
"Yeah, he was huge." Lago added. "Ask Dall how tough he was!" Tharcourt stopped Freya at the door, curious about the conversation taking place a few meters away. Freya started blushing when she realized that she was the object of the troopers' narrative.
"Huge?!" Coleth countered. "He was eight feet tall…at least! Big horns on his head. He had...I ain't kidding...four arms!"
"Spice dreams." Ekks said, rolling his eyes.
"Would have taken your head off, wise-ass." Coleth shot back. "He'd already beat Dall to a pulp and tossed him down the stairs like a ragdoll. That reb would have torn through us like a vibroblade through butter too. Thorne just grabs him by the throat, and screams 'For the Empire!', then choke-slams him down the staircase…"
"Ready to sacrifice herself to kill the enemy's greatest champion." Lago added wistfully.
"I'm telling you two…" Mets began, then noticed Gallen and Ekks staring with wide eyes toward the door. All of the soldiers turned their heads to the hatch to see their commander standing there with Ensign Thorne beside him. Besides her bruises, she was looking healthy as a newborn and strong as a gundark in their eyes. Gallen stood from his seat and slowly began clapping. Lago joined in a moment later, followed by Coleth. Soon, all of them were giving the ensign a standing ovation.
"Welcome back, ma'am." Lago greeted.
"Good to see you in one piece, ma'am." Mets stated with a proud smile.
"These guys were just telling us about how you killed some giant bioengineered superweapon of the rebels." Ekks explained. "I think they were about to attribute the birth of a new star system to you and form a new religion." He scoffed. "But it's damned good to see you're alright, ma'am."
"Thank you, troopers." Freya said timidly. "No need ta' be talkin' havers…I was just doin' me duty. That's all."
"Well, if that's you doing your duty, you fit in pretty good with this unit." Gallen offered. "You got my respect for sure." Thorne smiled humbly and nodded to the sniper.
"Come on, before they decide to build a shrine to you." Drakken whispered in her ear, and Freya giggled a little. He led her to the office, and locked the door behind them. Tharcourt motioned for her to sit, and he remained standing. "I guess now that you're feeling better, I have to give you a debriefing." He said, then shrugged a little. "You know, as your superior officer and all."
"Oh. Right on then." She answered.
"I uh…I heard from Daraay that you saved her life on the mission."
"Aye…" Freya said in a low voice. "We were clearin' a room. She didnae see the rebel come out behind 'er. I was closest, and…" She sighed. "I wasn't about ta' let the bastard hurt 'er. I drilled the beggar clean, I did." He stared at her, awaiting his friend to be the one to say it. "T'was me first, Drakken." She looked him in the eyes. "It was me first, an' it was savin' someone I cared about…"
"You alright with it?" He asked softly. "You made peace with it?"
"I think so, Drakken." She stated. "It was him or Daraay, and I'm glad it was him. I'd do it again all over. I think…I think it'll stick with me though." He nodded.
"Yeah…it does." He said softly. "It does that…" He cleared his throat. "A little after, you called in to say that you found a passage into the next structure, and I ordered your squad to take the building down from the top."
"Aye."
"And you ran into some resistance?"
"Yeah, there was a large gaggle a' rebels, caught us in a hall, and we were in a firefight with 'em. Daraay wanted to flank 'em, but I volunteered to instead."
"Why?" Tharcourt asked. He already knew what had happened up to a point, he just wanted to hear her side of it.
"At the time, there was all these rebels, and I figured Daraay was the best one a' us t' be dealin' with 'em. I thought I could take Dall an' get around them. A pincer maneuver, they called it in academy." Drakken nodded. "We took off, but got lost in that big ol' house, an' we couldn't find a way to link back up with Sergeant Daraay. So we kept goin'. These two rebels popped out of a room and Dall took a hit on his helmet before we got them. That's when the big fella came at us."
"What exactly happened with that?" Tharcourt asked. "Dall only remembers up to the point where he descended the stairs at a high rate of speed."
"Well, he threw us about, and I thought he'd killed poor Dall. Then he bent me blaster slap in half with a rock. There wasnae anything else ta' do but have a go with him." Freya explained. "I dunno how long we went at it. He was a big 'un, and them fists a' his were big as fall hams, and hurt like gettin' hit with a boulder…I gave as well as I got though, I think."
"And the steps thing?"
"I um…I was getting' 'twards th' end." She sighed. "I couldn't a' went on much longer. He was by the steps, an' I saw me chance. Only one I had, prolly. Hit 'im square in the throat with me staff with all I had left, and sent me and 'im down the mountain."
"That was…dangerous, Freya…you know that?" Tharcourt commented. "You could've been killed there." She now had a sad look on her face as she continued.
"Aye…I knew that. I'd a' been dead either way, Drakken. I figgered if I was goin' down the 'ole, I was takin' that bucket o' snots wit me." She looked down, lost in thought for a moment, twiddling her toes as she let out a sigh. "I thought about you…funny, huh?" She looked back up at him. "As I was freefallin' out inta nothin' there. I thought about you…an' I was right sorry for doin' that to ye." Drakken noticed tears forming in her eyes, and he fought to keep his own emotions in check. Yeah, if he knew he were about to die, he would likely be thinking of her the same way. That kind of talk could come later.
"I want you to know that I'm proud of you, Freya." He said. "You handled yourself so well there, and I guess it comes from your upbringing back home." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "I know more than you think I do, my friend. You let Daraay take the lead because she had the experience. You didn't hide from incoming fire once. You saved a teammate, and you made decisions when you had to. You didn't fight like an ensign. You fought like a warrior should." She smiled, and Tharcourt sighed. "But, if there's one thing you did wrong, it was running off and getting lost."
"I know." She admitted in a whisper.
"Dall isn't the best tracker or fighter on the team by a damned sight, and it was still your first battle. You should have retraced your steps and regrouped with Daraay. It was uh…it was a bad call, and you both could've gotten killed."
"I know." She said again, a tear escaping her right eye and falling down her cheek. "I know I almost got Dall killed…It was a stupid move…and I'm sorry…sir." Drakken couldn't help himself.
"It's okay." He put both hands on her shoulders, and Freya hugged him. "You're still new at all of this, and you're learning." He put an arm around her and patted her back. "Hell, at least you're mean enough to hold your own till you figure it out. Stupid people don't make it very far in this game, and you aren't dumb." He knelt down to on a more even level with her. "Look at it this way, you only have to do something for the first time once. After that, you're a veteran. So the hardest part's over, right?" He gave her a smile, and she couldn't help but laugh a little.
"Och, Drakken…" She sniffled. "Yer wise lil' idioms are so annoyin' sometimes, but I love 'em." With that, she hugged him tightly. "I had…the awfulest a' dreams when I was under."
"Yeah?" He returned, and she drew back. Her eyes shot between his a few times.
"I…I don't understand 'em." She whispered, shaking her head.
"What were they about?" Tharcourt asked. "It might help if you talk about them…you know, get it out?"
"Or you'll just think I'm crazy, ye will."
"No. Everybody has bad dreams every now and then." Tharcourt suggested. "What do you remember?"
"Well…" She began, "…I remember fightin', bein' in battle. Oh, it was disgustin'…I killed all these little kids…jus' shot 'em, Drakken, like I couldn't stop meself. And everything was on fire…jus' burning all 'round me." She was panting a little, and she looked about with her eyes, grasping to remember her nightmare. "I looked for you. I was a' calling for you, Drakken. I was tryin' to find you so we could get out a' there and stop all that killin'. I…I couldn't find you." Her eyes widened, and she pulled him into another tight embrace. "Til I did…an' you was dead. You were dead, an' I was lost an'…that breathing." She blew out an anxious breath. "Out a' the fire an' the ruin…that breathin'…it was comin' fer me."
"Freya…it's okay. It was only a dream." Drakken tried to console her.
"I couldn't move. I was frozen stiff. That black…evil shadow was comin' out the flames…like it was born a' the death an' the blood…I couldn't breathe. I was chokin' to death." Drakken swallowed hard. That was all eerily similar to his dreams weeks before. He knew who the dark figure in her nightmare was. "What do ye think it all meant, Drakken?" She asked in a frightened voice.
"I…" He began, trying to clear all the dark thoughts from his mind. "It probably just meant…that you're worried…you know, that you want to know if we're doing the right thing." He said.
"Are we?" She muttered. "Are we doin' the right thing?"
"Yeah. I mean, I think so." Tharcourt answered. "We're killing the rebels…and killing's never a great thing…but it's to save lives, right? We're trying to stop this war before more people have to get hurt."
"Yeah…" Freya said, trying to consider that as a possibility. "Yer probably right. The drugs they 'ad pumpin' through me system prolly didnae 'elp things much."
"Likely not." He agreed. There was a short silence. "So, consider yourself debriefed. Take the next day or so off if you feel like you need to…"
"I been out long enough, I think." She protested. "Ye heard the doc. I'm fit fer duty." He smiled. "What?"
"You haven't seen yourself, have you?" He asked with a little chuckle.
"No. Why?" She asked curiously. Drakken reached onto his desk and grabbed his datapad. He activated the camera, and handed it to Freya. She held it up, and let out a gasp. Around her left eye was a light purple bruise, which melded into another bruise that ran across her slightly swollen nose. A healed-over cut started on her forehead and ran into her hairline. And she thought the bruises on her arms and chest looked unsightly. At least they were covered. Freya growled and carefully tossed the device back onto the desk. She threw her head back and rolled her green eyes irritably.
"Freya?"
"Och…I look like Hell…" She groaned. "Ugh…That feckin' lout. Not that I was that fair t' begin with, but I look like a pisspot full a' cabbage."
"Hey, come on now." Drakken said softly. "You'll heal up in a few days. And I beg to differ…you were pretty before, and you're still pretty now, Freya." She dropped her head back down to give him an exasperated look. "A LOT prettier than a vacc tube with vegetables in it." Freya stared at Drakken a few moments, then burst out laughing.
"Oh Drakken, I don't know how ye always find a way to make me laugh."
"Good to have you back." He said warmly.
"Aye. Did I miss anything good?" She asked. He scoffed.
"Eh. Define good." He answered. "We're heading to the new ship tomorrow afternoon. I don't know if me or Firmus are more irritated by it. I interrogated the rebels we captured for information…" Freya gave him an angry glower. "Woah...I was nice about it." He said defensively. "Sat down with them and talked to them like they were people and they opened right up. Funny what a little honesty and courtesy can accomplish." He went on. "Anyway…apparently, I remind Lord Vader of someone he knew, so he didn't kill me, and uh…that ISB Agent that helped me with your uh…rescue…Veruna's her name. I guess I have a mission with her sometime in the next couple of weeks. So there's that."
"I don't even know where to start." Freya stated. She sighed. "And ye wanted me to take a day off, ye lovely fool. Alright, I'll get some hands together an' start packing all of the gear and weapons tonight. If I can beg, borra' or steal a small outboard, we might jes be able ta' get everything moved in one go, make it a might bit easier on us. Ye got our new space figured out yet?" Drakken raised his eyebrows.
"I…no. Stars, you're good at this job."
"Maybe I'm jes chasin' after those extra wee red and blue tabs so I can be trusted with combat assignments, c'mander darlin'." She grinned.
"No, you're just that good, Freya." Tharcourt returned. "So, want me to call Piett and see if he can't get us some rooms on board the new ship?" Freya narrowed her eyes and looked at him like a cross mother.
"Ye' best be gettin' on that, Drakken Tharcourt, lest we be standin' in the dockin' bay lookin' like great big plonkers."
"Oh, yes ma'am." Drakken said, feigning seriousness, and throwing Freya a salute. As his ensign left the room to start packing for the team's move, Tharcourt contacted Piett. The captain was on the bridge, no doubt taking advantage of every last second of his command of The Accuser.
"Drakken, what can I do for you, old boy?" He asked over the screen.
"Well, I guess with everything going on, I almost forgot to ask about my unit's lodgings onboard The Executor." Piett gave him an amused smirk.
"Thought so. I was wondering when you would bring it up." Firmus said.
"Well, I suppose I should arrange something before tomorrow evening." Drakken shrugged. "Not to mention that my ensign ordered me to inquire into it. Ordered me."
"Hm. I remember another young ensign with a temper when it came to exactness." The captain said with a knowing grin. Drakken gave a yielding nod. "Glad she's doing well. I trust you two will keep things…professional?"
"Of course." Tharcourt returned. He scoffed. "Besides, you know me…the day I have any luck with women is the day I'll hang up my blaster and become a farmer." Piett couldn't help but chuckle a little.
"Right." He said, trying to maintain his rigid demeanor. "As to your question, I made it perfectly clear that your team needed lodgings near to the hangar and training hall. The Executor is somewhat similar in layout to this ship, only larger, and I was able to secure you a block of rooms similar to your current ones. After some…work."
"What kind of…work?" Drakken inquired curiously.
"Oh, I just had to remind Admiral Ozzel…in the most respectful way of course, that you and your team answered to Lord Vader personally, and that any doubts as to your requests should be put forth to him at once. He was very gracious." Piett explained. "Even volunteered a team to help move your unit to your new quarters." Tharcourt let out a sigh.
"Still telling war stories about me, old man?"
"You keep feeding the fire with your exploits, commander."
"Hm. Well, I can at least report to Ensign Thorne that we have the lodging issue sorted out. Maybe she won't send me to bed without supper." Piett shook his head, and gave an incredulous scoff.
"Stars end…I don't know what goes on down there, and I have no inclination to involve myself in it." He said jokingly. "And Garos is closer to the core than Axxila…"
"But far less civilized, haven't you heard?" Drakken shot back with a smug grin. "While your people were building an inside-out version of Coruscant, mine were in a thousand-year civil war." His smile faded a little, and Piett caught a look of nostalgia on his face. "Good thing we won."
"And which side is 'we'?" Firmus asked.
"The side that won." Drakken shrugged. Piett snorted. Drakken was certainly in good spirits tonight. He hadn't been this cheerful in weeks.
"Oh balderdash, Drakken. Get back to work." Piett waved halfheartedly. "I will see you on The Executor, old boy." Tharcourt nodded.
"Enjoy your last night here." Drakken said earnestly. "It's been an experience."
"Yes, it most certainly has." Firmus agreed. "See you tomorrow, old friend."
"Yep." With that, the screen went dark. Drakken leaned back in his chair. That was one of the few times he had ever spoken a word about his homeworld, and he'd realized that as soon as he made the comment. He reflected on it a moment. The civil war. Hell, when hadn't the people of Garos IV been at war with someone? Hot wars and cold wars, internal and external conflicts. It was almost like whenever there were no immigrants, refugees or people on other worlds to hate, Garosians started hating each other.
That was all before the war…the real war though, but it was still relevant to him, if only because that was the narrow-minded pool he had slithered out of. The seps came, setting up garrisons and mines on his planet. It was outright invasion, and he remembered precisely that night at family dinner when the topic came up.
"I don't like seeing all these droids and unfamiliar races around," His father said, "but the Separatists Alliance has brokered a very good deal, and their presence should be a boon to the economy at least." Always the businessman.
"In the very least, they may be able to do something about the refugee problem." His mother commented. "Droids don't need to be fed or housed…in a way it's better to see them instead."
"Yeah, well I don't like seeing somebody else's army on my planet, mother." Thirteen-year-old Drakken had declared. "I thought we were staying out of this damn war."
"Drakken! You must watch your mouth." His mother chided as the butler poured more wine into her crystal goblet. "And you're too young to understand this sort of thing. An enemy of your enemy can sometimes make for a good friend. The envoy of this Count Dooku were very generous. Far more so than the republic has been. They expected us to give and give, for the good of systems I've never heard of…"
"And we certainly would never travel to." His father added. "Yes, we must put up with a small military presence, but I think it will benefit us in the long run."
"Yeah...it might benefit the banks, but it's still a bum deal." Drakken countered.
"Son, need I remind you those banks are why you live in this nice house, and have all those fine clothes?" His father stated. "And namely our bank. I don't know where you could have gotten your rebellious attitude."
"It's those other kids, Gheran." His mother said. "You know he only hangs around with those children of the soldiers stationed at the government quarter, that and those street rats."
"And you know I'm sitting right here, mother." Drakken shot. "And those kids have a lot more personality than the mayor's son, or those horrible spawns of the Laudierr's." He stabbed his steak with a fork and crammed a wad of the meat into his mouth, chewing it spitefully. "I hate money."
"Huh. Well, what do you think you're going to do with your life if you hate money?" His father asked.
"I dunno. Maybe I'll just become a soldier." Drakken offered. "Go fight pirates and raiders."
"Oh stars, not this again." The man groaned. "You and your ridiculous dreams of being a soldier."
"Well…" Young Drakken shot back in frustration. "It's a job with honor. It's a life where you can do something, help the galaxy. Father…mother, how can you just sit there and just…not be for the war or against the war…or for the war against the war, something at least?" He huffed and calmed down a bit. "It's like pretending to live or something."
"Your great-grandfather was a soldier in the war." Gheran Tharcourt stated loudly, pointing to the huge painting of a man in a gaudy uniform that was hanging in the family's huge dining room. "And he saw war, and strife and hunger and all that garbage you admire so much. And he did not recommend it, and that's why we are rich." He leaned toward his son. "All that talk about honor and duty and all that…it's rubbish, Drakken. Those are words somebody came up with to keep little people in line."
Drakken opened his eyes, and stared at the far wall of his office. He gritted his teeth and brought his fist lightly against his desk a few times. What was the deal with the last couple of months? It seemed like every conversation he had with someone, every mission and every moment of reflection was only just dredging the murky waters, forcing them to give up their dead. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Why did he even let it get to him? The past is the past. It's gone and can't hurt or help anyone. He'd always thought that…you have to let the past die, to kill it if you have to, but you leave it behind and focus on the here and now. No changing yesterday, and you don't even know what's going to happen tomorrow.
"To Hell with this." He muttered, and left his office. Outside, Freya had already recruited everyone but Dall and Felian into helping pack away all of the team's equipment. Lago was entering with of all things, one of those crates from earlier.
"We already got a good start, I think." Freya commented, walking over to him. "We'll leave out all our pers'nal kits a course, an' everything else can be boxed off an' ready to go by tomorrow." Tharcourt nodded.
"Good work. We have rooms waiting on us once we're there. Some crew are going to help us get our stuff to our new quarters."
"Oh, that's grand!" Thorne remarked with one of her happy smiles. She noticed his expression and her smile dropped. "What is it?"
"Nothing, just thinking." He said. The young woman nodded.
"Well, ye nae not worry, c'mander darlin'. I'm sure the new ship will be bleedin' cracker. Oh, I bet our new rooms'll be a bag o' swhag, an' you an' me can each get our own finally."
"Hm. I'm sure they'll be larger than what we have now, if the size of that thing is anything to go off of." Tharcourt agreed. He furrowed his eyebrows. "Freya?"
"Aye?"
"What the Hell is a bleeding cracker?" He asked. She giggled.
"Ah, sorry. It means really great…you know, top notch yeah."
"Huh. I will make sure to add that to my Freya Thorne to Basic dictionary." He said with a smirk.
"Och, C'mander Tharcourt, you're a devil." She jested. Drakken shrugged and nodded toward the pile of gear growing in the middle of the floor.
"Let's get to it then." He said. "I don't feel like standing around supervising. Good officers work."
"Aye. Then let's try an' be right good officers."
And so closes another chapter of our story. What did you all think? I know this narrative has become the definition of a slow burn, but is that a bad thing? In the end, this story is not about epic battles and monumental events. It's about people, the real people in the Empire, who like their rebel counterparts are neither good nor bad, but shades of grey on a galaxy-wide canvas of events. It's about friends and enemies, right and wrong, and how those lines can be blurred all to easily. In the end, it could be about us.
Metaphysical discussions aside, I will try to have the next chapter up in a few days. In the meantime, please leave your reviews and comments, or just drop me a PM if you want. And remember, my loyal readers, keep it tuned in right here for the next chapter of this continuing saga. Until then, Cheerio!