The door slid open, and Captain Tharcourt stepped into the briefing room. There were already six officers inside the room, sitting at a long table. Tharcourt recognized Piett immediately, and it took a short moment for him to register that among the other occupants, two of them were Colonel Wullf Yularen, head of the ISB, and Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin, whom Tharcourt had previously met. The other two men in the room were high ranking officers, one an admiral, and the other Tharcourt suspected was an Imperial Army General. The single female officer in the room, a thirty-something-year-old ISB agent, wore a white tunic with the rank of a Major, her uniform contrasting sharply with her shoulder-length black hair with pink highlights. Tharcourt came to attention and saluted the group.
"Thank you for joining us, Captain Tharcourt." Yularen stated from his chair to the right of Tarkin, who sat at the head of the table. The older, mustachioed man gestured to an empty chair. "You may have a seat. We would like to get started as soon as possible."
"Yes sir, colonel." Tharcourt said with a nod. He took a seat on the left side of the table, beside the Army General, and across from Commander Piett. Piett gave a nod to Drakken, who returned the gesture. Grand Moff Tarkin started the meeting.
"We asked you here Captain, because you are in a unique position to aid the Empire in an innovative way." The Imperial Governor spoke in his strong, measured tone.
"I'm not sure I understand, but how can I be of service, sir?" Tharcourt asked curiously. Yularen chuckled.
"Were you not involved in classified anti-seditionist activities on Lothal not long ago?"
"Only if my operational record says I was, sir." Tharcourt answered, not willing to divulge classified information, even to the ISB. He still wasn't sure if this was a meeting or a trial of some sort.
"Did you not recently help set up a training regimen for personnel involved in counter-insurgency operations?" The intelligence director asked.
"I did, yes sir." Tharcourt replied. "By request of…" He looked about the room, uncertain of everyone's security clearance. "…certain high-ranking Imperial…"
"It's quite alright, captain." Tarkin interrupted. "I assigned the captain, and he did a respectable job. Quite what we would have expected, given your…interesting history." Tarkin motioned to the woman in the white tunic. "Agent Veruna?" The ISB agent looked at an encrypted datapad, and tapped the stylus to her lips a few times.
"You were involved with a resistance movement against the Separatist Alliance as a child." She began. "Made a unit commander…attended Imperial Academy. You did quite well in combat training, leadership roles and intellectual pursuits. Very poor marks on electronics though. Tsk, tsk. And then there was the time you snuck out to eat at a local diner and buy cigarras?" She looked up at Tharcourt with her inquisitive but cold amber eyes.
"I confess…I was just tired of the rations. Hold on, ma'am…I wasn't caught by the instructors for that."
"We know, captain." She returned with a coy smile. "You were too artful and sneaky for that, weren't you?" She turned back to the datapad. "You hopped from assignment to assignment. Let me guess, trying to find where you fit in."
"Yes ma'am. Something like that."
"Hmm. You did very well on Mimban. The trooper you saved is doing well, by the way. He made platoon sergeant before he mustered out. Has a wife and two children. Named his son Drake." Tharcourt was almost speechless. In fact, he heard a couple of nervous throat clearings around him.
"With all due respect, and I mean that, I…I don't know whether to be humbled by that news, or terrified that you knew it right now." He said with an unbelieving scoff.
"Trust me, captain…" Agent Veruna shot back, "…I am very good at my job. Though finding out some intel on you was a little difficult. You have played on the brink of some classified black holes. That, and according to this, you don't have much of a private life. Or a love life." Tharcourt shrugged. Veruna continued. "You conducted secret operations on Lothal, and anti-piracy operations on board the Furor. And we can't leave out your work with the little think-tank on combating rebels, where you stated in a paper that…" She cleared her throat. "We are against an enemy which none of the might of the Imperial war machine can be brought to bear. Governor Tarkin's methods may work well for planets or cities with a seditious population, or wherein over half of the population is involved in rebellious activities. However, destroying a metropolitan area to strike at a small band of mobile insurgents who may have already fled is counterproductive to the goals of the empire…" Tharcourt actually felt a tinge of fear, and hoped the agent would not keep reading his theorem with the target of his written rant in the room. To his dismay, she continued.
"If a lothcat kills your chicken, do you shoot your derlac because it saw the lothcat? No. You hunt it down to its den, and destroy it and its entire pack in detail. Parables aside, we must be able to hunt these bands of terrorists utilizing their own methods of fast movement, precise strikes, and small, covert units. This is the only method of eliminating guerilla bands, regardless of what some in command like to think." She sat the datapad down, and gave Tharcourt an incredulous look. Yularen was looking at him with his eyebrows raised. Piett looked like he was worried for his old friend's life. It was Moff Tarkin who broke the tense silence.
"You certainly aren't afraid to speak your mind, Captain." The Moff commented. "And if it were not coming from a fellow huntsman, I think I would be indignant." Tarkin gave a cruel smile. "And that is what you are, captain. A hunter. I can respect that. So, let's see if you live up to your own words."
"Sir?" Tharcourt asked nervously.
"You are to assemble a team. A special unit comprised of soldiers from the Imperial Navy and Army. You will be in command, with the sole responsibility of tracking down and eliminating rebel cells. You will answer only to high command, and since you and I both understand our quarry, you will have whatever materiel you deem necessary or mission-appropriate." There was a long silence in the room. "Anything to add, captain?"
"Well…yes sir, Governor Tarkin. I would need time to lay out the groundwork for such a team, and access to personnel files to vet the applicants." He thought for a moment. "Don't get me wrong, sir…I'm not declining. I just need to figure out how to go about forming such a unit."
"Good. It's settled then." Tarkin concluded. "You will have all you asked for. Any of you have objections or questions?" There were murmurs and headshakes around the room. "You have two weeks to plan out the details. Send any ideas or resolutions to my office directly via secure communications. That is all gentlemen. I have business on another project that may soon render our dear captain's new job unnecessary. He stood, along with the other members of the committee. They quietly exited the room, with Tharcourt at the tail-end of the procession. He was met just outside the door by Agent Veruna, whose expression said there was more to discuss.
"Yes, ma'am?" Tharcourt inquired. The intelligence officer gave him a small smile.
"Sorry for being so…thorough. It's what we do." Captain Tharcourt shrugged.
"And you do it well, ma'am. I'm impressed."
"You can call me Zala." The agent returned. She brushed a lock of her black and pink hair from her face. "Would you perhaps…like to get to know each other better?" Tharcourt chuckled.
"Zala, nothing personal, but I get the feeling you already know me more than I could ever know you." Drakken said somberly. "It wouldn't work."
"Yeah, probably. Sorry…being an ISB agent is damned lonely sometimes, Tharcourt." She huffed. "About like you." Drakken nodded.
"Life of a professional soldier." He said, a little regret in his tone. She smiled.
"That girl. The one you saw a few times when you were at that armory, pretending you were a lowly gun-bunny." Tharcourt looked away.
"Nothing escapes you people, does it?" He sighed. "Kiffa…yeah, we went out a few times. I think she really liked me."
"What happened?" Zala asked sincerely.
"She didn't want me to go on active. To Mimban. She begged me to resign my commission. Said she had the money…we could be happy." Tharcourt looked at Veruna a moment. "I said I couldn't be happy unless I went to Mimban." He sighed. "She said she couldn't do it. She couldn't be with someone who had to chase death." He pursed his lips defeatedly. "So that's that."
"The life of a professional soldier." Zala muttered.
"Too right." Drakken agreed.
"Well, it was good getting to know you, Captain." Zala said after a few moments. She gave a little sly smile. "And I mean that on every level imaginable." Drakken gave a small chuckle. "Good luck with your new assignment."
"Thank you…Zala." Tharcourt returned. "Hope you get to meet more…interesting people."
"You have no idea." With that, she simply walked away. Tharcourt let out a low 'huh', amazed that he had just been asked out by an ISB agent. He started down the hall. He had scarcely rounded the next corner when he nearly bumped into Piett.
"Ah, Drakken. I was just coming to see you." Firmus said cordially. "I wanted to say congratulations."
"Thanks, I think. No idea how I'm going to put together a strike force in two weeks, but you know me, I'll somehow manage to do it."
"Doubtless." Piett returned. "But I was actually talking about your promotion."
"Promotion? What promotion?"
"Moff Tarkin ordered me to promote you."
"Ah kriff, this is more serious than I thought. He's going to have me blasted out of an airlock if I fail at this special forces thing, isn't he?" Piett gave a rare smile.
"No, probably put you behind a desk. Not that it would be any better on you." Firmus answered. "On the bright side, the race we started years ago is still neck-in-neck. You are now commander Drakken Tharcourt of Imperial Special Forces."
"Well…" Tharcourt dawdled a moment. "Suppose we're tied now."
"No. Not at all, old man." Piett mused. "I have seniority afterall. Now, you may want to go to the bridge and get your second code cylinder. I am on my way there now if you would like to accompany me."
"I honestly have nothing better to do with my time." Tharcourt confessed. "I am the proverbial superfluous spare finger on this vessel." Piett slapped him on the arm, and the two commanders walked to the turbolifts at the end of the hall.
Reaching the bridge wing hall, Tharcourt and Piett made their way toward the vestibule just before the bridge doors. Right before they reached the doors, they slid open, and Tharcourt felt the oddest sensation he'd felt in his life.
Cold. That's what it felt like. As if the temperature in the hall had suddenly dropped ten degrees. He was also aware of a heavy, mechanical breathing in the moments before the dark figure stepped out of the bridge. Tharcourt had only been aware of Lord Vader through Imperial reports and rumors circulated through the military. A cyborg, some dark lord with magical powers that the emperor had found in the Unknown Regions, an evil man trained by Emperor Palpatine for the darkest of missions. These were the rumors. The fact that he could strangle the life out of someone without touching them, this was close to a well-known truth. As was the facts that this Lord Vader was the emperor's right hand, and that he wielded a laser sword that could cut through anything. And here he was, stepping out of the bridge in front of Drakken Tharcourt.
"Lord Vader." Piett greeted. The black clad man…if that's what he was, turned to Firmus Piett and breathed a couple times.
"Commander Piett." Vader returned. "I was searching for you."
"Ah yes, apologies, m'lord. I was summoned to a meeting with Grand Moff Tarken and Commander Tharcourt here." Tharcourt wished his friend hadn't mentioned his name. He actually felt Lord Vader look at him through the dark orbs on his helmet.
"I see. So Tarkin plans to reveal the first of his…special teams, and his grand project at the same moment." Vader mused. "I wonder if this has any link to the increase in rebel activity…"
"I wouldn't venture to guess, m'lord." Piett answered. "Grand Moff Tarkin is a good strategist."
"No…" Vader countered. "He is as he says…a hunter. And you, Commander Piett are now a Flag Captain, and have command of this ship. Captain Tyrellius was not as capable as I had hoped. I retired him. Do not let me down…Captain Piett."
"Thank you, Lord Vader." Piett acknowledged as the dark figure strode away. Piett turned to Tharcourt, who swallowed hard.
"I…I had only heard stories, Firmus. The Gods help me."
"Lord Vader is…stern…but fair." Piett stated. "He demands honesty and loyalty and…rewards are rarely handed out." The two men stood in silence a moment. "Well, shall we?"
And so we see how Delta-7 began, and you get a little Darth Vader, Tarkin, Piett and Yularen all in one chapter! I know the chapters have been a little short thus far, but they grow longer as the story progresses and grows in complexity. Once again, I've structured a written work around the formula of Chaos Theory, so the beginning must be simple and without inherent flaws in the system. I won't keep you with boring mathematical drivel though. I'll try to have another chapter up either tonight or tomorrow morning, as I leave out for the highland games tomorrow afternoon. I won't be able to post until I get back, but expect me to begin posting again Monday. I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far, and if you are (or hate it), please leave your comments in the review section. As always, don't forget to tune in for the next installment, folks. Cheers! -Drake