Legal stuff: Same things as on the first page.. Nothin' has changed.
And to my one reviewer so far, Bjrn Fallqvist, thanks! I guess I'm not the only one who has taken a liking to the soldiers of the Empire.. Of course, you never did get to see behind the helmets, so there might have been humanoid aliens under them :)
Zaknafein's chest felt a swell of heat as he looked down upon his newest captive. He could feel her rage and hate boring into him even as he pushed her along in front of him. It amazed him that no matter how hard he pushed, she never cried out or fell.
"What's your name?" he asked, his helmet safely enclosing his head in its protective darkness.
For a moment it seemed she would refuse him, then her voice, hoarse with crying, shattered the expectant stillness.
"Julie Firestone."
Her answer was met with a uncomfortable silence. In the haze she could see the gloomy opening that clusters of armored soldiers and their cowed prisoners milled about in. More than once Julie had entertained the idea of running, but the Sargeant's cold-blooded promise gave her pause. Much too soon for her liking, they reached the temporary staging area inside the temple.
"TK-8804, TK-9419, alert your squads and take the prisoners to his Lordship. Make sure they are delivered relatively undamaged."
Julie whirled on Zak, her puffy and bloodshot eyes blazing in their intensity.
"I thought you were staying on Yavin for a few days!"
The cold T-visor gazed at her for a moment.
"I lied."
Two Stormtroopers grabbed her and tried to place her with the others. She struggled fiercely, bravely, but to no avail.
"Is there anything you believe in? Do you not have any morals, Banshee!" she shrieked at him as they dragged her away.
As more of a murmur to himself, Mandalore whispered. "No, I lost those the moment I left Chiss space and joined the Empire."
He was jolted out of his placating by a young AT-ST gunner.
"Sargeant, Lord Vader demands an update."
Zaknafein looked at him before a low sigh escaped him and he reached for his holo.
He's barely more than a boy..
The image of Darth Vader bloomed over the palm of his hand, his hissing breath making the hairs on the back of Zak's neck stand on end.
This continued until Vader broke the silence with his deep, mechanical voice.
"What's the situation, Sargeant?"
"My Lord, we are inside the temple and are prepared to launch our assault."
"You mean to tell me you've been sitting on your behinds for thirty minutes!"
"No-"
His explanation was cut short as his windpipe was suddenly, inexplicably, clamped shut by some unseen power. Mandalore's head snapped back, blood spurting from his nose and mouth. Guttural growls rumbled in his chest, muted from the lack of air. That same unseen force ripped the helmet from his head and lifted him from the ground. Zaknafein's pride kept him from clawing at his throat as he had seen others do, instead his unoccupied hand found a hold on his belt and clamped there, nails digging into the Bantha leather.
"You disappoint me, Sargeant. You came highly recommended by the Emperor, no less."
That's easy for you to say, motherfucker. You're not the one about to be turned into a bleeding cube of flesh, armor, and bone.
It was lucky for the Chiss that Vader did not care to touch his mind, or he would have been turned into a rather bloody cube indeed. Vader had turned to face a nameless lackey (Zaknafein was still in his airless prison) who was delivering his report. Words passed between them, unheard by Zak, his ears only hearing the pounding of his blood rushing through his body. Then Vader turned around.
"It seems I've underestimated you. My apologies."
The invisible strangle-hold abruptly vanished with with the Darth Vader's dissipating hologram. Zaknafein crashed to the ground, breath roaring in and out of his body. He laid there for several minutes, ignoring his subordinates ogling.
"Sir."
"Shut-up!" All of you!"
The chatter died immediately. The Sargeant looked insane, blood still running down his face in rivers. He gasped for breath for a few more moments, then allowed his breathing to return to normal.
"SIR!"
That turned out to be the last thing the trooper was allowed to say before Mandalore blasted him into the next world with his sidearm.
"Any other motherless bastard that deems it necessary to bother me, had better be prepared to lose his life!" he growled. He glared at each squad commander in turn before continuing. "You all have been briefed, so I won't elaborate further. All squads except Zulu will fan out and destroy all Rebel units. This includes your 90-year old granny, if she's here."
The small circle fanned out and within moments various troops were mobilized. Zaknafein and his squad, bolstered by Zulu company (Their commander had been killed by Zak moments before) headed for the command room. Grim shadows accompanied them, their eyes darting to jutting corners and endless corridors that stretched off to each side. Finally they reached their destination. The Sargeant turned and flashed out a complex series of hand signals to his squad. Twelve heads nodded their acknowledgment, then formed up on his flanks as he planted explosives on the door. The two foremost troopers prepared flash-bang grenades. A single thumbs up sign blew the door inward, and Zaknafein charged inside, blasting anything that was stupid enough to move. The men behind him sowed the flash-bangs generously, stunning Rebels by the handfuls. A few smart souls tried to fight, but they were swiftly cut down. Every Imperial soldier knew of the security holos recording their every move.
Finally when the blaster fire had calmed, the Chiss Sargeant ordered the Rebels stripped and disarmed. Then the unexpected happened.
One of the Rebels at the rear threw a low class thermal grenade in Gremlin's direction, and before he could leap out of the way, hot shrapnel ripped into his armor like hot butter. He fell to the ground, blood pouring out of every orifice he had, and a few others that had been newly made. Mandalore was the first to reach his side, but when he got there, Gremlin was already gone. The cause of death was obvious. A long shank of steel went through the center of his helmet and protruded from the other side.
Zaknafein stood and roared. "WHO DID THIS? WHAT STUPID MOTHERFUCKER JUST SIGNED HIS DEATH WARRANT!"
The crowd instantly parted to reveal the culprit, and in less time than it took to blink, Zak had charged forward and blew him apart with the grenade launcher on his blaster rifle. The helmet gazed at everyone else and then crisply ordered. "Kill them. Every single one of them."
A brief scream echoed around the room before blaster fire obliterated the various beings in the communications hub. Once silence had once again taken command, Zak found a thick pool of black blood and scrawled on the wall "You don't win a war by dying for your cause. You win a war by making the other son-of-a-bitch die for his."
Four hours later, aboard the Lambda shuttle Interrogator
The shuttle ride back to the Super Star Destroyer Executor was as uneventful as they get. The missing member of Zaknafein's tightly knit squad was felt by all, and no one broke the silence that gripped them. While there were no teary eyes or running noses, each of the Chiss grieved in their own way. To thier knowlege only this squad and Bravo were entirely composed of non-humans.
It was well known among the high echelons of command that it had been Thrawn's doing that brought eight highly trained Chiss commandos from Csilla. A few of the rumors that swarmed around them said that Thrawn wanted to prove that aliens could be just as adept at warfare as humans. Still others persisted that they were either spies or body guards for the Admiral.
Whatever the cause was, it was irrelevant right now, as the news was being given to Thrawn light-years across the galaxy.
As if Gremlin's death wasn't enough, they had to cremate his body to prevent the news of there being Chiss in the Imperial military. That had had nasty effects on the group as well, from the toughest mind to the weakest.
Three pairs of glowing eyes snapped to the shuttle's ramp as the felt the all-too-familiar grind of landing gear touching down on polished durasteel.
"Well, lads, let's get this over with." Zaknafein grumbled, slinging his rifle strap across his chest.
