Hello again, my loyal readers! Ready for another chapter? Well ready or not, here it is. Enjoy, and remember: Star wars belongs to Darth Micky. I own nothing but my OC's.
The move to The Executor was fairly straightforward for the team. The Accuser had maneuvered close to the huge dreadnaught, and the ships met port-to-port, standing off only two-thousand meters. It was only when they were in their shuttle, clearing the beam of their mothership for the last time that they saw the enormity of the new Super Star Destroyer. The Accuser was a huge ship by any standard, but this new class of destroyer dwarfed the vessel, much in the same way that a corvette would seen small compared to their old ship.
"It's going to be like…being planetside…" Lago muttered in awe, looking out the window of the shuttle. Commander Tharcourt hummed, remembering how big the Death Star had been. As gargantuan as the ship they were now approaching was, it would have been nothing compared to that. The morbid thought occurred to him that the size of the orbital battlestation did little to protect it from the rebels. Then again, as he looked out at the large turbolaser batteries, he at least ceded that this was still a ship-of-war, despite its size. The DS-1 was poorly protected, relying on fear and sheer bulk. This ship at least looked as though it had teeth to match its growl.
They landed in the hangar of the destroyer, and Tharcourt had no sooner stepped off of the ramp then he was met by an officer wearing a uniform bearing an admiral's rank. Drakken snapped his heels together and saluted the officer, a stocky, mustachioed man of about fifty with broad shoulders. The admiral returned the salute, and his eyes flicked to the tall death trooper standing behind and to the right of the commander.
"You must be Commander Tharcourt of special forces." He spoke, as if his mind were on several things at once.
"Yes sir." Tharcourt answered. "Reporting as ordered."
"I'm Admiral Kendel Ozzel, commander of Death Squadron and C.O. of this vessel." The admiral stated. "I suppose I should welcome you aboard. Your unit's reputation has…ahem…preceded you." Tharcourt decided to test the waters with his new superior.
"Reality or myth, that is known to happen, sir." He said. "Happy to be lending a hand to this Death Squadron." Ozzel just made a 'hmph' sound.
"Now, I will tell you what I said to that young Baron. Just because you are special forces, do not think you'll get any special treatment outside of what we already have to do." The admiral stated. "It's hard enough to run a ship of this size without a couple dozen troops outside of the chain-of-command running wild through the halls."
"Well, I assure you sir, my troopers are housebroken for the most part." Tharcourt said. "You don't need to worry about us. We tend to keep to our own part of the ship, and we have our own assets."
"Good." Ozzel muttered. "That's good. I had Saber Squadron flying in and out of my hangar without so much as a clearance code…and there was the time those SPECFOR scouts were riding those…cursed speeder bikes through the halls. It's just not good business."
"No sir." Drakken agreed. Thorne came up to the two, and came to attention.
"Sir." She greeted Tharcourt with proper military bearing. "A small group a' orderlies are helpin' the men move our equipment t' the unit's new barracks. Ye wish me t' oversee it, c'mander?" He noticed Ozzel positively eyeing Freya up and down.
"They look like they have a decent handle on things, ensign?"
"Aye sir." She stated rigidly. "I put Sergeant Felian in charge o' the operation in me absence, sir."
"Then I'm sure the men can handle the luggage, ensign." He advised. "You may remain with me." She did a graceful pirouette and stepped back to the left of Tharcourt. "Admiral Ozzel sir, this is Ensign Freya Thorne, my second. Ensign, this is Admiral Kendal Ozzel, commander of this ship and the fleet we're now part of."
"Me pleasure, sir." Thorne said with a crisp salute. Admiral Ozzel returned the gesture.
"I must apologize, young lady…but I have to ask about your strange uniform. Is that regulation or regimental?" He asked quizzically.
"I 'ave permission to wear this uniform, sir. It's part of me people's culture, and more n' anything else, shows me loyalty ta' The Empire."
"Oh…of course…" The admiral said, blinking a couple of times. He looked at Tharcourt. "And which system is she from?"
"Her world isn't in a system, sir…it's more like ah…go out past Utapau, take a left at Karideph and keep going for a while. You reach dead space you've gone to far." Admiral Ozzel had a comical expression on his face, looking like someone who was trying very hard to spot a particular blade of grass in a field. Tharcourt briefly felt sorry for him. "Her world is called Breoh'Lar, sir. It's on the border of wildspace, so not many people have heard of it. Her people's warriors from birth like the Mandalorians." The admiral seemed satisfied with that answer.
"Hm. Interesting. Like the Mandalorians, yes. Hm." He ruminated for a moment. "Oh. You are to assemble here in the hangar at ten-hundred with your unit, commander. Lord Vader wishes to review his forces now that the fleet is properly assembled." Drakken sighed inwardly. He hated reviews, but what Lord Vader wants, Lord Vader gets.
"Yes sir. I will inform my team to spit and shine, sir." Tharcourt returned. The admiral nodded his agreement.
"Very well. I shall see you on the parade deck at ten-hundred. Welcome aboard, commander…ensign." Tharcourt and Thorne saluted Ozzel.
"Thank you, sir." With that, the admiral turned and walked away, and Tharcourt motioned with his head to Thorne and Daraay to follow. They made their way partially across the massive hangar before stopping a cargo tram for a lift the rest of the way. The driver, a young man in a black utility jumpsuit, seemed almost terrified of the two officers and the imposing black-armored death trooper riding in his small shunter, sitting on ammo crates like transients. They disembarked at the far side of the bay, and Tharcourt thanked the young man for his time. He nodded back and saluted.
"Well…where we be goin' now, me great warrior chieftain?" Freya asked, looking down the corridor, which was thrice as wide as the one on their old ship, and looked about as long as the Hydian Way.
"This way, I would think." Drakken replied. "We'll just look for the only people we recognize, and go from there." He sighed. He'd been onboard The Accuser for about six months, and the only people he had gotten to know were Mess Sergeant Feine and Bartley, the captain over the training hall. Now he would have to start all over from scratch. The three began their trek down the hall.
"So, what do ye think a' our Admiral?" Thorne asked, trying to make small talk. Drakken chuckled under his breath.
"If I told you, it might be insubordination." He answered truthfully. "I think Firmus and I see eye-to-eye when it comes to that man." In the short time he had conversed with the admiral, Drakken had picked up on several things about him, and didn't see much to be keen on. Ozzel tried too hard to act rigid and draconian, but through the cracks, Tharcourt could see the man's ineptitude shining through. He had begun their meeting by ensuring that Tharcourt knew fully his position and importance. Then, he'd seemed to have a hard time grasping concepts like Freya being from an obscure world, and had gotten lost in his complaining about irreverant soldiers so much that he had nearly neglected an important order. It was obvious that Admiral Ozzel was likely a bumbler, promoted because of credits or some important acquaintance.
"Hm. I think 'e was peepin' at me legs." She whispered. Drakken glanced down at her long, shapely legs as she walked, and immediately snapped his eyes back forward. Freya caught this, and masked a smirk.
"Oh, um…looks like we're here." Tharcourt said awkwardly. Just ahead, Felian was directing some black-clad crewman as they moved thee crates into a doorway in the hall. The scout trooper sergeant threw Tharcourt a nod as he approached.
"Just now trying to get everything moved in, sir." He said. "Good thing the new area is a little bigger. I picked out a room to use as our armory already sir. Hope you don't mind."
"No, not at all, sergeant." Tharcourt answered. "Mind if I squeeze in and have a look at the place?"
"Help yourself, sir…it might take some osmosis to get through some of the first room right now though." Tharcourt slid past one of the crewmen, and in between two stacks of crates and found himself in what would become the new waiting area and commons room for the team. It was a little bigger than the old one, and seemed to have already been in use as a sitting area for a small group of offices before the space was allocated to Delta-7. There was even a caf-dispenser, but he thought that since they had brought theirs, two wouldn't hurt anything at all.
"Oh, hello, sir." Gallen greeted, coming out of a door on the left side of the room. "What do you think about our new digs?"
"I dunno yet. Just got here, corporal." Drakken returned. "You find the bunkrooms?"
"Well, best as I can tell, there are two rooms back thataway that can be used for our bunks. The door next to that is a big storage room sergeant Felian already claimed for our gear. There's a nice big office room right there…" He pointed to a door in the right corner, "…that would be perfect for your headquarters. It's got two desks, a holoscreen and everything already in it. The chair in there is really comfy too. I already tried it out for you." Freya let out a quiet snicker.
"I'm sure you did, Gallen." Tharcourt said blandly. "Checking it for my safety and its functionality, of course." The sniper grinned.
"Exactly, commander."
"Well, carry on. Why don't you help get the bunks moved into place?" Tharcourt suggested.
"I…I will certainly try, sir." Gallen said back with what the commander was sure was two fingers crossed behind his back.
"Oh…well, don't work too hard now." Drakken said with a smirk. The corporal shrugged innocently, and went back through the doorway he'd emerged from. Tharcourt turned to Daraay, who had just now managed to find a way to fit her large frame and bulky armor through the cases. "Sergeant, we're going to inspect whatever passes for officers' quarters in here. While Felian is seeing to the gear, I'd like you to supervise getting the bunkrooms squared away. Hate to see all of you sleeping on the floor."
"Of course, sir." She answered. "I'll see to it."
"Thanks." With that, he led Freya to the hatch Gallen had pointed out. He opened the door and let out a low whistle.
The room had been most definitely been an office for someone of rank. Two desks sat near the doorway, a chair in front of and behind each. Passing between the desks further into the room, they found two large shelving units against the bulkheads, a small weapons rack and a cabinet for data disks. At the back of the room were two doors. One led off to the right, and turned out to be a small closet. One on the back wall was simply labeled 'Officers' Quarters-Private'.
"Well, I guess this is it." Drakken muttered. "Hope there's two rooms."
"Maybe they got bunk beds. wouldn't that be grand?!" Freya asked happily. Commander Tharcourt paused his finger just over the button and shot her a glance.
"Wh…what are you, twelve?" He chuckled. He pressed the button, and the hatch slid open, revealing a short hallway. To the left and right were each a set of two doors. "Whoever built this damned ship must have had stock in the company that manufactures hatches…I swear." He stepped into the hall. "Well, this must be my new bedroom…" he grumbled, and opened one of the doors to the right. Inside was a full refresher. Thorne giggled.
"Yer gonna sleep in the shower then, Drakken?" She jested. He rolled his eyes.
"Okay, so the rooms must be on this side…" He commented, and opened the first door on the left. Inside was a sparse, grey-walled bedroom, much like his old one on The Accuser. A bed sat against the far wall, and beside it was a metal night-table. A small desk with a mirror above it and a closet built into the bulkhead completed the suite. "Home sweet home." He said. "You can have the other one." Freya walked to the door and opened it, looking into her new room.
"Drakken…I think this one should be yours. It's a little bigger. E'en has more storage spaces an' all."
"Eh…you can have it." Tharcourt said. "I already claimed this one. Besides, you have more stuff." Freya just smiled and shook her head. 'One thing you could say about Drakken Tharcourt…' She thought to herself, 'The man never wants more than he needs.'
Having located their lodgings, Tharcourt and Thorne set about helping the rest of the unit unpack all of the gear, weapons, data disks, personal belongings and the mountain of assorted odds and ends that comes from a military unit moving to a new location.
The next morning, they all awoke at 0700, after only about seven hours of sleep. Throwing their new quarters together into something they could reside in had kept the entire team busy into the night. They quickly took breakfast in the dining hall, then returned to their rooms to change into their new combat gear. Then, they each spent thirty minutes polishing their black armor and their weapons until everything looked almost new. Commander Tharcourt donned his best uniform and his regulation boots, which he polished to a high shine. Thorne wore her best uniform, including her standard-issue officer's trousers and high boots. As an afterthought, Drakken put on his holster and blaster pistol, and as he exited his room, he saw that Freya had the same idea. They made their way to the new commons-room.
Each of the troopers seemed to be getting ready for the review in their own odd ways. Daraay was standing like a statue already, her blaster on her right shoulder. Contrasting with the sergeant's martial demeanor, Gallen was lollygagging on one of the empty crates. It was apparently in the forefront of Mets and Coleth's minds that the powerful and mysterious Lord Vader would be reviewing them personally. The two, usually involved in deep debates about extreme sports and attractive women, were now meticulously checking their armor and gear for the smallest sign of dust or scuffing. Felian, the constant sergeant was helping Lago, giving the young stormtrooper pointers on polishing his boots, removing scratches from his helmet and other useful advice.
Alright troopers…at ease…" Tharcourt announced as he entered the room, Thorne following him at a professional distance. "As you all know…here in a little bit, we're going to be going to an inspection." He took a deep breath and exhaled. "And it's not going to be some officer doing the review. In case a few of you don't know, it's going to be my…our supreme commander, Lord Vader." Gallen and Lago glanced at Mets and Coleth as if their commander had just affirmed a terrible rumor the two had started.
"Now…" Tharcourt continued. "…I know you'll all stand-to, and present yourselves as the discip…dependable soldiers you are." That at least got a few chuckles and broke the tension in the room. "I'm not asking you to make me look good. I'm asking you to show Lord Vader what dedicated and loyal troopers you all are. I think…that's what all good leaders want to see…and Lord Vader I believe…can see through any falsehood you try to present him. So, stand tall and proud, men. If he asks you anything, be forthright and respectful…for the love of whatever deities you hold dear…be respectful. You remember what happened when I spoke with him on Endor…" They all nodded grimly, remembering the terrifying being choking their commander through a holocall. "Yes, well…I know you'll do your unit and the Empire proud." He huffed again. "We leave in a few minutes. That is all." With that, Tharcourt retreated back into his new office, a chance to sit and relax a little before he had to meet with his superior.
"Drakken?" Freya said timidly, closing the office door and sitting in front of his desk. "Sir?" He looked at her with an over-exaggerated straight face. "What is he like?"
"Who? Vader?" Tharcourt returned.
"Aye. I know you've met with 'im a few times…an' all I know is wot I seen there on that planet. After…the thing wit' Raliss…"
"Mhm."
"And I heared all these stories." She continued. "I jes wanted to know wot the man is like 'cause…" He could see a scared look in her eyes. "I'm about ta' meet 'im, an' I feel like I'm about t' cry, Drakken." He sighed.
"It'll be alright, Freya." He said tiredly. "What I said to the men is true. Just…be very respectful towards him. That's…actually something you can't help. It's hard to explain, but when he's there, staring at you…it's like…" He took out a cigarra and lit it, realizing that his hands were trembling a bit. "It's like he can see past…through any act or wall you're trying to put up. It's unsettling as Hell at first…like he can see right into your mind and read who and what your really are." Thorne gave a dramatic shudder.
"Brutal…" She whispered.
"The uh…the room seems to get cold, and you feel this pressure…I don't know how to explain it…he get's riled, and you can feel it, you know? Like you're underwater or on some planet with a five-X gravity. He has a power, Freya…a weird, mystical kind of thing, and it's amazing and terrifying. Like how he seems to sense things, and how he can kill someone without laying a finger on them…and that laser sword of his…he's not a man, he's a force of nature."
"Is he…human?" Freya asked softly, her face locked into a look of apprehension and awe. "I mean…what is he?"
"I…I don't know." Drakken said. He took a long drag off of his cigarra and pounded out the stub in the metal tray in front of him. "I heard things…when I was younger. I don't want you saying anything about this to anyone, okay?"
"I won't."
"When I was a kid…you know, back in the war…there were these people. They were called Jedi. They belonged to some old religion or cult or something. You ever hear of them?" Thorne looked down.
"We 'ave old stories on me world…fables for young-uns you know?" She began. "There's these myths of a' people called the Jeada'Hai. They were magical folk…could fly though the air, an' make war with lightnin' from their eyes an' glowin' spears a' fire. The stories say they fought me people waaaay back in th' beginnins, an' we came to a peace with 'em. Now they're supposed t' live on some faraway planet out in the depths. We call 'em the fair folk in some of the stories." She looked up with a perplexed look on her face. "Doon't be tellin' me those ol' stories were true all this time."
"I don't know how much of it is…but I think there may be a grain of truth to your legends." Tharcourt answered. "The Jedi were supposed to have all these abilities. They supposedly used some kind of magic…like they could move things with their mind and stop blaster bolts mid-air. They fought with these bizarre laser swords. Real warrior monks, I guess. Anyhow, they led the republic forces during the Clone Wars, and all the reports I heard said they were really effective at smashing clankers. I guess having sorcery gives you an edge in battle." He shrugged. "Well, at the end of the war, they turned on the Republic, and tried to kill then-chancellor Palpatine."
"Stars end…" Freya whispered. "…why?"
"Dunno. I wasn't there, so I don't know how it all went down." Drakken explained. "What I read is that they tried to overthrow the government, but the clones under Palpatine were able to beat them. So, I guess sheer numbers and massed firepower trump sorcery any day." He paused a moment. "Back to the story, I guess…that's when the Empire was created, and all the Jedi were hunted down and killed for their treason." He had been thinking it for weeks, but was hesitant to speak his theory out loud.
"I believe…and this must be kept between us…that Lord Vader was one of those Jedi people." He paused and narrowed his brown eyes. "Maybe he broke with the rest and stayed loyal to Emperor Palpatine. Hell…maybe he saved the emperor's life or something when the Jedi tried to kill him, I dunno. But his magical abilities…that sword of his…to me, it all adds up to him once being one of them. If he was…kriff…how powerful Vader is, he must have been one of their biggest head-honchos too."
"Ye…ye think he was one of them…wot we call th' fair folk then?"
"Yes, I do. Drakken replied. "He's a wizard that uses an energy sword. How many people like that could there be in the galaxy, unless there's a group of Jedi that are evil mirror images of them or something as asinine." There was a low hiss as Freya took a drag from her electronic cigarra. "Well, no sense in putting it off. I guess you get to meet him yourself in a little bit. Treat him like you would any superior officer you respect, and everything will be alright. I don't think Vader suffers fools to live. It's a damned good thing none of us are fools, right?"
"Aye…right…" Thorne said, sounding unconvinced.
"It's time." Tharcourt stated. "Let's get this over with, eh?"
The team made their way to the hangar bay in perfect formation. The crew of The Executor, not used to seeing the strange but intimidating unit of black-armored soldiers on their ship, gave a wide berth to the group as they marched down the hall. Caleb Sameth, a young midshipman who flattened himself against the wall of the corridor as they passed, summed up the mindset of the crewmen. Stars…another special unit brought onboard. The twenty-year-old native of Derra thought to himself as he watched them pass by in silence. Navy…Army…Stormtrooper Corps…is that a Karking Death Trooper?! These guys are serious business! What in the name of The Emperor are we up against now?
Delta-7 formed up in the hangar, Commander Tharcourt standing front and center with Thorne just to the right of him. Behind, Felian stood on the far right, and at his left in a line stood Coleth, Mets, Gallen, Daraay, Dall, Lago and Ekks. Beside Ekks was R-5, as he was technically a member of the unit as well. Next to their team was a platoon-sized element of Stormtroopers Tharcourt didn't recognize. By the red markings on their armor, he at first assumed they were Incinerator Troopers, but realized their armor was all wrong for them to be burners, and they must be some special unit he didn't know. Next down the line was a ten-man unit of shadowtroopers, standing silent as the grave in their shiny black armor.
He looked across the fifteen-meter gap in the formation, to a squadron of TIE pilots, dressed in strange grey jumpsuits with red stripes down the arms and legs. Definitely a special forces air wing, he thought. Ought to get to know their commander. Might need their help in the future. To the immediate right of the pilots was a huge formation of stormtroopers and their officers. Company sized, at least. To their left was a small group of ISB Agents in their white tunics, with the lower ranked members clad in grey and black outfits. Unsurprisingly, a team of six Death Troopers stood behind the agents. Tharcourt curiously squinted toward them, checking to see if Veruna was among them, but all of the ISB officers looked to be male, and the highest-ranking one was a captain or commander. It was hard to tell with their strange rank plaques that nobody but them seemed to be able to decipher.
Tharcourt processed it all in his mind. There was his inter-branch counter insurgency unit, a unit of specialized Stormtroopers of some feather, an SF TIE wing, Shadowtroopers, and a gaggle of ISB with Death Trooper escort. Whatever Lord Vader was putting together certainly involved clandestine operations of a scope and variety that boggled the mind. A year ago, the commander would have been ecstatic to see so many branches of Imperial service, and so many special units working in concert against the rebellion. Now, he had his fears that all this pointed toward a serious misallocation of the assets he and his small band of dissenters had fought so hard to create so long ago.
"Atten…tion!" Admiral Ozzel called over a PA before he appeared walking down a staircase to the hangar floor. Behind him trailed half-a-dozen officers, and Drakken thought he recognized one of them, even from that distance. The slim and shorter form of Piett, coming down the stairs, his back rod-straight as always, was unmistakable. He sighed quietly, content there was at least one friendly face aboard the ship. He, along with nearly a hundred and fifty other Imperial soldiers and officers stood smartly at attention.
Admiral Ozzel and his retinue reached the bottom of the stairs, and walked behind the formation of stormtroopers. Then they moved around them and strode between the ranks of soldiers, the Admiral regarding each unit with a studious eye, obviously looking for any trooper or officer out of regulation. He finally passed by Delta-7, and eyed Tharcourt and his troopers, seemingly more so than he had the others. Then he passed on, Piett giving Drakken an quick and almost imperceptible nod of greeting as he followed his new superior, a gesture Tharcourt returned.
The commander quickly turned his attention to a hatch at the end of the hangar as it slid open, the figure of Lord Vader stepping out. Behind him was a man Tharcourt didn't recognize. He wore a green helmet and chestplate over some kind of light grey jumpsuit. The commander kept his gaze trained on this newcomer for several moments. He had the bearing of a soldier or warrior of some kind, but he didn't look Imperial at all. Even from this distance, Tharcourt could see that his armor was worn, and pocked with blaster marks.
Ozzel had nearly reached the door by now, and saluted the black-clad warrior. He said something, but Tharcourt could only make out the words 'ready' and 'as you please, my lord'. The strange armored man stood by the door as Vader slowly walked along the space between the formations, only occasionally turning his masked face to one side or the other. Nobody dared move, speak or even cough, and the hangar was so quiet it was unsettling. When the dark lord had reached the end of the formation, he doubled back, now taking his time as he returned the way he had come. He stopped in front of the officer in command of the Stormtroopers first. A few words…a nod and a salute from the officer, and Vader returned to his inspection.
He next stood in front of the Shadowtroopers for several moments, his hands on his hips, looking at them as if they were providing some form of entertainment by their silence and motionless posture. Then he moved on to the unit of Stormtroopers with the red markings. Tharcourt heard Vader state the word 'Commander', followed by the trooper with a pauldron displaying his rank stepping forward. Commander Tharcourt tried to keep his eyes forward, and only caught a few words of the conversation between Vader and the Stormtrooper commander.
"Very well, commander." The dark wizard finally said, and turned away. He walked to the TIE pilots next, gave them a cursory once-over and a nod of his shining black helmet before turning his attention to the ISB agents. Being directly across from him, Tharcourt could at least watch this meeting without breaking protocol. Vader spoke with the commander of the team, and Drakken could pick out key words and phrases that made it obvious that their conversation was being kept as vague as possible. They spoke about Viper droids, Lord Vader demanding to know how many he could have at his disposal within a month's time. He mentioned something about Inferno Squad dealing with dreamers, whatever that meant, then alluded to the ongoing search for the rebel pilot. The last part was the only thing Tharcourt understood, and he rationalized that it was probably the only thing he was meant to at the moment.
Then, in a moment that felt far too much like one confronting the inevitability of one's own death, it was his turn. Vader approached slowly, his eyes on Drakken. Commander Tharcourt swallowed and took a deep breath as Vader moved nearer and nearer. The tall, black-clad humanoid stopped uncomfortably close, and Tharcourt snapped him a salute.
"Lord Vader, sir." Tharcourt stated. "I'm at your service."
"Kuhhhhhh…..Khuuuuuurrrr…." Vader breathed, then finally spoke. "Commander Tharcourt…your team will be a valuable asset in coming operations. I have made it a point to review your file, and that of your unit. It was a most…interesting read…commander. It was my design that you were brought aboard."
"I'm…honored you think so highly of Delta-7, sir." Tharcourt returned, feeling an odd mixture of pride and fear. "We look forward to serving under you, my lord." Vader breathed a couple of times, and Drakken could feel the being's eyes boring into him.
"You are not a man of idle flattery, so we may dispense with the pleasantries, commander." The cyborg said in what Tharcourt noticed was an almost condescending tone. "I wish to know more about your team." Vader cocked his head toward the troopers behind Tharcourt, seeming to run his eyes over the entire line without stopping on anyone in particular.
"Certainly, sir." Tharcourt acquiesced, at least feeling a bit comfortable in the fact that Lord Vader had practically told him to stop kissing at his boots and act like a soldier. He spun to stand beside his superior, who was still looking in the direction of his unit. "What would you like to know?"
"You have a most interesting collection of soldiers, I see. Navy…Army…Stormtrooper; how do you maintain unit cohesion, commander?" Tharcourt was caught temporarily off-guard by the technical question. He hadn't expected someone like Vader to show an interest in something as nuanced as unit dynamics.
"Well sir, if I can speak freely…" Tharcourt began, and Vader nodded. "It works because they all know what they are fighting for, and the fact that a small unit like this can easily be held together with minimal leadership. You see, my lord…each one of these troopers has a valuable skill-set. Each one is an expert at something. During operations, they play off of each-others' strengths, the one in the know taking point so to speak. Meanwhile, my two sergeants do most of the command and control during contact."
"I see." Vader mused. "Continue."
"Delta-7 being so small and structured around specializations, rank often gives way to expertise during combat operations. This leads to a bond between them, sir. They are very much like a fraternity, and that…at least I like to think…makes them fight for each other that much more." He fell silent, and listened to Vader breathe a few more times.
"Tarkin spoke of your unit as an experiment." Lord Vader commented. He slowly turned his head to look at Tharcourt. "He said that if you made it work, it would be an anomaly."
"Tarkin was a…good leader, sir." Tharcourt said somberly.
"He was also wrong on occasion, Commander Tharcourt." Vader countered. Tharcourt wasn't sure if he was talking about Delta-7, and thought it best not to press. "You said your men are all specialists. What are their talents?"
"Oh…well…" Tharcourt began. Vader stepped toward his troopers, and he instinctively and paternally stepped forward with him. "Very well, I guess we can start from the left. Sergeant Felian there was one of my first picks. He is the best tracker I've met, and like I said, one of my squad leaders. Coleth and Mets are my scout riders. Good at recon and fast assaults. Gallen, the Army trooper there is the finest long-range marksman I could dig up. Daraay was assigned to me by ISB and has proven her worth more times than I can count." Vader was walking down the line, looking intently at each soldier as Tharcourt named them off. The commander took a breath and continued.
"Dall is a crack medic from the Five-Oh-First. Lago is my linguist and translator. Ekks is a maverick pilot and…I'll just say that he's good at sneaking into places and finding things we need." Vader looked down at the droid beside the pilot. "That sir, is R5-F77, our astromech…as it seems."
"Beedeep unnnnnnk whooop." The droid sounded. Tharcourt saw Lago wince a little, and Vader stood up straight and was silent a moment.
"I will take that as a compliment…droid." Vader remarked in a low voice. R5 made a low whine, almost like it was scared. Vader then turned on his heels and walked toward Thorne, who was still standing in position two paces ahead of the formation. "And your ensign, commander?" He inquired, coming to a stop in front of Thorne. He stared into her face, and she looked straight ahead, her hands trembling slightly at her sides.
"This is Ensign Freya Thorne, sir. She is my aid-de-camp, and an expert in hand-to-hand combat." Drakken explained. Vader slowly looked at Tharcourt, then back to Freya.
"Indeed. This is the one you took to medical instead of appearing for your debriefing." It was a statement, and a bitter one at that.
"Yes sir. She was badly injured on our last mission…she was um…she killed a devaronian rebel in unarmed combat, sir." Vader said nothing, but continued to look at Thorne. Drakken was starting to become uneasy.
"I wonder." Lord Vader said, seemingly to himself. Tharcourt barely noticed Vader's right hand close into a pincer. The air seemed to grow colder, and Vader again shot a glance to Tharcourt before looking back to the Ensign. Then he opened his hand, and the chill slowly subsided.
"How many rebels have you killed, ensign?" He asked. Thorne met eyes with him.
"By me count…three at least, m'lord." She answered in a nervous but direct voice.
"Do you pity them, ensign?"
"It's not me way to kill someone unless I have ta, but it's hard to pity someone who's tryin' to kill you, m'lord." She replied. Drakken could see that she was a wreck. Sweat was beaded on her forehead, and her hands twitched every so often. He could only imagine that her heart was racing. He knew he could do nothing about it, but at least she was handling the conversation well.
"Indeed…" Vader said. He stared at her a little longer. "You have much fear, ensign." He said. She gulped. "What is it you fear, Thorne?" She tightened her jaw. There was no sense in lying. If Drakken was right, this being could see through any fib.
"T' be useless to me team and me commander, m'laird." She stated "To fail them. You. Me commander. To fail the Empire. If ye want to know, that's what it is." Vader's head slowly recoiled back, as if he was astonished that this young woman had spoken so straightfrward, so almost defiantly. Tharcourt felt his heart skip a beat. If he were concerned before, now he was scared of what Vader might do. He was shocked by what happened next. Lord Vader leaned in toward Freya.
"Good. Remember that. Learn to use your fear, and it will make you a better fighter, Ensign Thorne." Her eyes widened.
"Aye…." She said in a whisper. "Yes m'lord…I will…"
"Good. Commander Tharcourt. Come with me. I wish to speak with you about a mission."
That was most certainly a chilling moment toward the end, was it not? Vader had taken a personal interest in the team, and has a special mission set aside for them. Oh, and a man in a green helmet is walking around with the dark lord of the Sith. Three guesses who that is. What will the mission be, and where? Has Drakken just made a deal with the Devil? And did Darth Vader just give Freya some very darkside advice? Tune in next time as all this is revealed in the the next thrilling installment of Star Wars: Imperials! Until then, please leave me your love (or hate) in the reviews, and I wish you all a very fond...Cheerio!