Chapter II
"Good stars, doc, the vitals are all over the place!"
"Quiet, I just touched a nerve. hold her still and prepare the synthflesh."
The Stormsurgeon breathed out, aimed the scalpel and made the second incision. The muscle opened, burned tissue was removed, pressure relieved. He counted the seconds, breathed, and applied the Synthflesh to close the incisions.
The trooper helping him, Nines, checked the medisensor while he washed the tools and downed another cup of Caf.
"She's stabilizing." Nines breathed out with relief.
"Course she is. Move her to the bunks and bring in the next."
The first 6 hours after combat were usually the most difficult, but it got easier afterwards. It's been around 11 hours now and the only thing that was keeping Arlay up was the constant cups of Caf. Personally he was blaming the Rebels for knocking out the power which short circuited the medical droids. Arlay was not a big fan of the older models but he felt like he could always rely on droids; unlike most of his colleagues they knew how to keep a quiet and professional workspace. Or at least they had a mute button.
The Triton Besh Listening Outpost was not heavily guarded. As such, Arlay Rejen, official designation ST-871766, happened to be the only available medical officer on staff. He delegated triage and minor injuries to anyone who could hold a medpac, but major injuries needed more treatment than a simple bacta spray and usually he couldn't trust the others even with that.
Luckily for everyone involved, Stormtrooper body glove protected the wearer from the worst excesses of the void. As such exposure to vacuum was treatable with stim-shots unless you've been out for more than 5 minutes, at which point protocol stipulated that the patient should be put into a Bacta tank. bacta tanks that the outpost did not have. Instead Arlay had to apply selective bacta spray and bandages to regions that were affected by ebullism, half measures at best. Consequently, the survival rate of those that were thrown out of the Control room were low, even if they got rescued.
In any case, that was just a minor concern then compared to the main cause of fatalities: blasters. Blaster bolts themselves carried no heat. On impact, however, their displacement of matter produced kinetic energy that caused heat: materials struck by bolts tended to deform and fuse, and liquids inside organic bodies were instantly vaporised, expanding and doing damage to surrounding tissue. Stormtrooper armor protected against the worst effects but it didn't make the troopers immune: it just granted them a few extra hours before they could get treated by a medic. And those hours were coming to an end.
Rejen focused on the next patient: chest wound, burnt tissue. He made the incision, applied the Synthflesh. Then the next patient: head wound, just a scratch. Then the next, shrapnel stuck in the leg, a rarity but nothing he couldn't fix. Then the next…
"We're running out of bacta sprays," Nines informed him. Arley quietly hissed at the remark that pulled him out of his trance, no matter how urgent it was.
"How many are left?"
"2 bottles."
"No, the patients."
"Oh," Nines frowned, "about a dozen."
Arlay paused. Bacta was necessary for pretty much any operation, a healing agent and an antiseptic rolled in one package. Always useful, always in short supply. The medic tried to think: "give stim-packs to those with minor injuries- no wait." He rubbed his temples. "we ran out of those 3 hours ago."
He grabbed the triage datepad, sorted through it again and selected a third.
"Get them in the medbay, give the rest more sedatives."
Nines looked at the list and blinked, but instead of arguing he just nodded and went on his way. Arlay guessed it was fatigue, or maybe he realized that the good doctor had effectively condemned 10 troopers to their deaths and didn't wish to dwell on the matter. In truth he didn't really care. He refilled his cup, downed it in one gulp and refilled it again. The deaths didn't bother him, not as much as how easily he could've prevented it, if he had proper equipment.
And then the alarm rang out. Arlay froze for a second before pushing an exasperated sigh and grabbing his helmet and what little remained of his medipac. He was searching for his helmet when a thought hit him. Why did they come back? Finishing the job wasn't the Rebels' style, if they wanted they could've simply bombed them into oblivion 18 hours ago. Pirates then? Why bother, they weren't a depot and their worth was minimal at best. They knew that they couldn't hold the outpost so why… Arlay put on his helmet and hurried towards the exit.
The corridors were filled with troopers running back and forth. Arlay grabbed the nearest one.
"Blasters."
"What?"
"Need blasters for the injured, get a dozen."
The trooper stared at him blankly for a few seconds, before shaking off his hand.
"We barely have enough to go around for those that can stand, the armory got hit remember? Besides, they're dead men anyway."
"If you get them blasters that means more bodies between you and the enemy," Arlay hissed in a low tone.
That took the trooper by surprise: "You want them on the front lines?"
"Want them somewhere useful, about a dozen can hold a weapon, they can provide covering fire."
The trooper was at a loss for words for a few seconds, then he nodded.
"I'll try to get a dozen." He started walking in the other direction muttering "And I thought sarge was heartless…"
Arlay ignored that. If the pirates got through they would all be dead in any case.
He started going to the medbay but something stopped him. It was a shadow, coming down the hallway positioning between the station and the light reflecting off the second moon of Triton. It wasn't in the shape of a Mon Cala vessel or anything smaller like Arlay assumed it would, no, instead it was triangular.
He went into the medbay and grabbed the nearest pair of electrobinoculars. Upon closer inspection he was certain: this was an Imperial Star Destroyer, not something a pirate or a rebel could get his hands on. Something made Arlay stay, observing the Star Destroyer for a few more moments than he should. It wasn't the first time he'd seen one, yet there was something peculiar about it.
"Don't just stand around here you data-worm!"
The voice came from behind, a gruff old voice, with years of honing this particular brand of shouting. Arlay turned and saw the old drill sergeant being right behind him.
"Get back to the Medbay this instant Maggot! Unless you found a better surgeon floating in the middle of the star forsaken void!"
In response Arlay simply handed him the electrobinoculars and pointed at the shape: "It's a Star Destroyer."
Sarge looked at him incredulously before grabbing the binoculars. Exactly 10 seconds passed before he threw them back at Arlay and went back down the hallway shouting insults in his commlink:
"I swear whoever pressed the alarm button is going to be sleeping in the hangar bay for a month, without any life support!"
As he left, Arlay took one last glance at the ship. It managed to approach the outpost and turn, the light reflecting off its underbelly and he understood: It had a black pattern painted on it. Some form of a roaring beast, a mythical monster emerging from the cold void.
From what he gathered, the Rebels destroyed the friendly/enemy recognition system, thus leaving the garrison with only the simplest tools to send distress signals or to recognise the Ships in the moon's orbit. As such they mistook an Imperial Star Destroyer for an enemy vessel and only understood their mistake upon visual confirmation. The Adamastor (the name of the Imperial star destroyer in question as Arlay learned) was not alone. In fact, according to the reports Nines brought to the medbay, this was an entire battle group of some sorts, with frigates and support vessels. Why they would send an entire battle group for this little outpost, Arlay couldn't tell, and in truth he could care less; right now he only cared about the supplies that the shuttles would bring. However the first shuttle that landed 20 minutes after the ship's arrival was not full of provisions but of men.
The Admiral was not what Arlay expected her to be. She was young for an admiral, in her mid 30s if he was any judge. She was rather short, a trait compounded by the tall troopers standing at her side, and was wearing the standard imperial navy officer uniform, its only unique features being the admiral plaque on her chest and a kepi, adorned with a symbol that Arlay didn't recognise. She had fair skin, short black hair and deep blue eyes, not a stunning beauty or even pretty by Arlay's standards. but despite her apparent blandness, there was a certain gravitas to her actions. The stormsurgeon wasn't the best when it came to assessing personal charisma but even he could tell that her posture alone was almost defiant: her back was always straight, her hands behind it, a position of healthy confidence seemingly unburdened by her rank.
She was accompanied by a squad of Naval troopers and… an alien. Arlay blinked to make sure that it wasn't sleep deprivation making him see things, but no, it was unmistakably a Cathar, late 20s if he was any judge. She had yellow, almost gold fur, her eyes two alien irises, sharp ears and a streak of brown hair tucked to one side. Underneath there was the unmistakable silver gleam of an AJ^6 Cybernetic construct. Arlay wondered how similar a Cathar biology was to that of a standard humanoid and what changes were made to the standard nanothread patterns before realizing that he was staring. He wasn't the only one of course: the men gathered at the landing pad were exhausted, lacking discipline, struggling to stand at attention or even to form a coherent line, required by protocol. The admiral didn't seem to care, instead examining the remains of the outpost for a few moments before going straight to the highest ranking officer of the Triton Besh Outpost that was still breathing: their old drill sergeant.
"Admiral," the old instructor said in a gruff voice (though far more subdued than his usual tone), "we weren't expecting you."
"Clearly not. Otherwise you'd at least try to clean up the place." The Admiral's face curled up in a small mocking smile before being replaced by a look of concern: "At ease soldiers. Jokes aside, we received your transmission right before jumping from Eriadu. A moment later and we would've been on our way to Sluis Van."
"You- diverted an entire task force for this?" Sarge sounded almost impressed.
The Admiral shrugged: "I like to be thorough. Now I need a sitrep on your forces, how many are wounded or incapacitated?"
"Well the entire command got taken out during the assault on control, hence why I'm the only one left in charge. As for the medbay you'll have to ask Rejen."
Arlay felt the scrutinizing gaze of the Admiral and approached a few meters.
"ST-871766 reporting. Currently, 35 wounded troopers and noncom personnel in total. Ten are in critical condition and we've just run out of Bacta."
"Get them on the shuttle," commanded the Admiral.
The naval troopers moved efficiently, Arlay had to admit. In a matter of minutes the heavily injured were moved and the shuttle lifted off again, leaving the group standing in the middle of the half-empty medbay. The Admiral observed it critically.
"You're missing bacta tanks," she stated.
"Missing a lot of things," Arlay grunted.
"So I've noticed, where are the medical droids? And other medical staff?"
"Droids were knocked out, I'm the only stormsurgeon. Well I have a helper but that's it."
The Admiral looked at Arlay again, with something resembling respect. "Quite impressive Trooper, if not for you we would've needed to bring a lot more body bags. Even so, that doesn't explain the lack of equipment and manpower."
The Drill sergeant spoke in a mildly defensive tone. "With respect, Admiral, no one was expecting this outpost to get attacked."
"Most outposts that get attacked don't expect it." The Admiral sighed. "How did this happen, sergeant?"
"An infiltration. One squad of Stormtroopers was transferred here about a week ago, with proper IDs, clearances and everything. They cut the power and stormed the Control room in less than 3 minutes, deactivated the defenses then called in support…
The Sergeant started accounting in detail the battle. As he did, he started leading the admiral around the outpost, showing the signs of sabotage and fighting, with the Cathar noting down everything meticulously, always staying behind her superior like a shadow. Finally they entered the Control room. The once orderly HQ was a sorry mess with the repair teams only managing to seal the outside breach. The blast impacts and frags were all over the place. All of the interfaces were destroyed, though Arlay could not tell if it was deliberate or a consequence of the fighting. The Admiral stood in the middle of the room taking in the sight, with a melancholic expression on her face. For a few moments she was completely silent. Then she spoke up:
"I need more details about the intruders, their appearances, capabilities, anything."
"Did a medical on them," Arlay answered. "Five in total, four males, one female."
"Anything in particular that stood out to you?"
"One of the men, too short for a Stormtrooper, notified command."
"And?"
Arlay shrugged. The sergeant coughed:
"Recruiters had to lower standards as of late, a lot of troopers in the garrison don't meet the '501st bar' so to speak."
"So you're telling me that everything else was in perfect order?"
"The IDs and medical history were all in order, if they did any plastic surgery it was either pristine or minor." Arlay produced a datapad: "Here, copied the profiles."
The Admiral started swapping through the profiles, studying them meticulously: "Did anything strike you as odd about their behavior?"
"Well, not particularly. They weren't shinies- rookies, at least didn't act like ones, which was consistent with the service record. Well except for the short one, his scores at the range were suboptimal. Actually this one-" The drill sergeant pointed to the profile on the datapad, "Would usually tutor him."
"Really? But he's not marked as squad leader."
"No ma'am he was not. Not an uncommon thing though, delegating tasks and all."
The Admiral remained thoughtful before giving the datapad to the Cathar: "Compare him to the list, see if any of the biometrics can match."
"Why him in particular, ma'am?"
"A good question lieutenant, which I would answer by another: if I were a high profile insurgent how would I lead an infiltration team?"
Arlay started to catch on: "You presume that the leader of the operation was high profile."
"Trooper, you're speaking to a superior officer!" Growled the drill sergeant, but the admiral laughed:
"You are quite perceptive for a Stormtrooper. But yes, given the effectiveness of the operation, the timing, the infiltration and the Rebel presence in the sector we can assume that this was organized by someone that has a good knowledge of imperial defensive protocols and decent leadership skills. This narrows down our list of suspects."
"So you find out who they are. What then?"
"Know your enemy and you will be able to predict their next move, Stormtrooper. Still you are correct. The why of this engagement is far more important than the who. So, why was your outpost attacked?"
Arlay thought that the question was rhetorical but the Admiral was looking at him expectantly. The sergeant coughed, probably to mask a laugh as Arlay's seeming insubordination had now put the surgeon at the spot. Should've known better, thought Arlay, his interactions with the higher brass never ended well, but because of the fatigue he didn't control himself. Well, in for a credit…
"The outpost is of minor importance strategically speaking, no supplies, no weapon stockpiles or a place to hide,"
enumerated Arlay, more to give himself more time to think rather than anything.
"So, their main objective was the destruction of the outpost."
It was the most logical solution: Triton Besh had nothing to offer, yet by destroying it the Rebels could potentially use the system to avoid Imperial presence along the hyperlane.
The Admiral tilted her head:
"Sound logic, trooper. however, there is one issue with it: if the Rebels just wanted to destroy the outpost why storm the Control room? It's not a good extraction point and taking it wasn't necessary to deactivate the defenses."
The coughing behind Arlay became more pronounced, the sergeant no doubt enjoying the scene. Arlay himself ignored it, the admiral was correct in her assessment. He pushed away the fatigue clouding his mind and tried to think, think dammit…
"...The Data. The only thing of note they could've taken from here while willing to risk so much."
"Yes."
The Admiral smiled like a teacher whose least promising students had just solved a complex equation.
"The listening outpost is limited in scope but can record any transmission or ship jumping between Eriadu and Sluis Vans. And the only place where one could slice it," she stood over one of the monitors, "is here."
She turned to the drill sergeant:
"I'll need a team of engineers to try and piece out the rest. Call them down with the next shuttle and make sure it brings down medical supplies as well."
The sergeant saluted and left, disappointed by the lack of reprimanding that took place. Arlay stayed, studying the Admiral who busied herself with her own datapad.
"Ma'am, may I speak frankly?"
"You may."
"What was the point of asking me that question? You knew the answer."
"True, but I didn't know you, Trooper. Now I do, at least a little bit." The Admiral smirked.
"Tell me, why are you here? Your service record," She showed the datapad she was carrying, "Doesn't have any particular blemishes. by all accounts you're a very capable Stormsurgeon. So why this outpost?"
Arlay looked away. his past wasn't a secret - not the parts that were on the datapad anyway - yet he disliked it when people were digging into it. He shrugged:
"Promotions never really interested me."
"So why did you join, then? The pay?"
"No, I just enjoy the challenge."
The Admiral was about to ask another question but at that moment the Cathar politely interjected, addressing Arlay:
"Excuse me, could you confirm the match between the two profiles?"
Arlay focused on the datapad: the first was a face he remembered well, short black hair, a tattoo around his neck and blue eyes. The second profile was different at a first glance: a blond man with outrageous sideburns and hazel eyes. yet after looking at the two side by side, Arlay noticed similarities: same bone structure, same deformities, same blood type…
"Same man." Said Arlay with certainty, "Your 'High Profile,' I assume?"
"Alexsandr Kallus." Faro pronounced the name with venom, but also a certain satisfaction, evident by a predatory grin playing on her face.
"Former ISB enforcer, current Rebel terrorist. Shame none of you shot him, it would've saved me from numerous future headaches. In any case, we have the Why and the Who."
"But Ma'am,"asked the Cathar a bit sheepishly, "we don't know what sort of information he was looking for."
"And I doubt we will learn that here. Kallus was part of the investigation branch and knows how to hide his tracks. But from what we already know we can make deductions. And each time they strike again our predictions will get better. This is a waiting game, Lieutenant, and I'm more than willing to wait for my enemy to make a mistake."
The Admiral looked up at the stars as if expecting to see another attack. "Well, I believe I am done here. We'll spend a standard day or two in orbit before moving on, more than enough time to bring the station back to decent conditions. There is only one question remaining." She looked at Arlay: "You told me that you joined because you wanted to challenge yourself."
"That's correct, Ma'am."
"And yet you're here. In the middle of proverbial nowhere. Aside from today I suppose it has been a quiet place."
"The transfer was not my decision."
"So I see. It just so happens that the 403rd Legion attached to my fleet is missing a few stormsurgeons. I'm sure the High Colonel would not object to such a transfer."
The declaration took Arlay by surprise.
"You would do that? But why?"
"Because your skills are wasted in this dump. Because you can serve the Empire better elsewhere. Because I need capable soldiers in my fleet." The Admiral looked at him sharply. "Unless you prefer to stay here of course."
Arlay saluted her: "I'll grab my pack ma'am."
"Good, dismissed."
As Arlay started walking out of the room, still processing what just happened, the Admiral called him one last time.
"Oh and Trooper,"
As he turned he saw her standing in the pale light falling on her face, behind her the shadow of the Adamastor.
"Welcome to the 11th."