Chase of the enemy ship continued into its second hour. The members of Delta-7 stood at the ready by the docking bay's far aft wall. As The Devastator pursued the small rebel corvette, Tharcourt's team waited, along with two platoons of stormtroopers of the 501st Legion, who would be the first wave once the corvette was captured and boarded. Delta-7, as a special unit, and not front-line soldiers, had been ordered to enter as the second wave.
The ship had earlier disabled and boarded a larger Calamari vessel, with Lord Vader leading the assault into the ship. Still over Scariff, and with the rebel fleet virtually wiped out, it had initially looked like an easy victory for the more powerful Imperial fleet. Delta-7 had been given orders to hold during the boarding, and had not yet gotten a chance to join the engagement. In an unforeseen turn of events, the smaller corvette had broken free and evaded The Devastator, leading to the chase the star destroyer was now engaged in.
Commander Tharcourt looked about the mammoth hangar, toward the two E-WEB heavy blasters that had been positioned port and starboard of the docking port, likely in the event that the ship divulged a group of desperate, armed fighters when taken. On the starboard side of the nearly eight-acre sized docking port in the floor of the hanger, sat The Huntsman. Beside the unit's shuttle, sat a small prison transport shuttle, at the ready to return any captured rebel fighters to The Accuser. Everything was in place.
They had been in pursuit of the rebel vessel for some time, longer than the commander had thought they would be. The Devastator was a powerful ship. The small enemy vessel must have some sort of modified aftermarket shields, he reasoned. They neared some yellowish-colored planet in the Outer Rim. Tharcourt, standing in front of his small team, squinted, trying to make out some feature to tell him which world this was. It was hard to tell.
"Tatooine, sir." Stormtrooper Hitster Lago commented, his voice feeding into the earpiece of the commander's helmet-mounted comms system. Tharcourt turned his head slightly and nodded. Good. Lago was from here. If for whatever reason this mission devolved into ground fighting, he had at least one man who knew the terrain and languages here. Just in case. A siren sounded in the docking bay for a few seconds, followed by a voice speaking over the PA system.
"Enemy vessel is now locked in tractor beam. Boarding teams stand by. Repeat; enemy vessel is now locked in tractor beam. Boarding operations will commence shortly." Again, Tharcourt tuned his head to the side and nodded, a sign to his team. As he looked back over the scene in the hanger, he saw a familiar figure entering from a port-side hatchway. Cloaked in black, his long cape draped behind him, his identity was unmistakable. Lord Vader had come to once again oversee the capture of the enemy ship personally. A strange, morbidly curious part of Tharcourt wanted to finally be able to observe Emperor Palpatine's right hand from a safe distance, but the situation would not allow such reflection. The stern of the rebel corvette was now in view, the tractor beams of The Devastator pulling the ship toward the docking bay.
As the trapped corvette drifted into the docking area, Commander Tharcourt noticed Lord Vader pointing into the face of some officer, then motioning toward a platoon of 501st stormtroopers. The ship was drawn fully through the field separating the soldiers in the star destroyer from the vacuum of space, and with a loud 'clang', the vessel was locked into position. Lord Vader strode slowly and deliberately to a hatch on the enemy ship, and a glowing red shaft of energy sprang from his right hand. This had to be the terrifying laser sword Tharcourt had heard rumors about. He watched with interest as Vader plunged the energy beam into the very durasteel plating of the ship, and cut almost effortlessly through the entrance of the corvette. The hatch hung upright for a short moment, and then fell outward, immediately followed by a platoon of stormtroopers entering the ship. Vader stepped in closely behind them, followed by another squad of troopers led by two black-uniformed officers. Lastly entered a grey-clad officer and two more in black uniforms, either stormtrooper commanders or security personnel.
"Move out." Tharcourt ordered with a forward wave of his right hand. He jogged toward the corvette, and didn't have to look back to know that his team was behind him. He even knew what formation they would be in at this point. Daraay would be one step behind him, and offset to the right. Directly behind her would be Felian and Ekks, Mets and Coleth following Felian, and Dall, Walker and Lago trailing behind Ekks. Gallen, being the unit sniper, and in an impractical situation in close quarters, would be behind Coleth, walking backwards as he covered the rear of the formation.
Delta-7 made it to the open hatchway, and Tharcourt held up a hand to signal 'halt' to his teammates. He held up two fingers, and waved to the other side of the opening. Immediately, Felian, Mets, Dall and Gallen rushed to the opposite side of the hatch. Commander Tharcourt could hear blaster fire from inside the ship. He closed his eyes for a moment, studying the sounds he was hearing to gauge what was happening. Definitely E-11 blasters. Occasionally, he could hear some other type of weapon fire, always followed by a torrent of fire from the stormtrooper's blasters. He was confident that the Empire was winning the day.
They waited in their holding position for the next five minutes. Their orders were to hold outside until called in, and they soon started seeing prisoners. Rebels, singularly or in small groups, were led out of the ship by pairs of stormtroopers. Each of the rebels were dressed in the same uniform; a light blue shirt, black utility vest, tan pants and calf-high black boots. Some of them wore curious white helmets, while others were bare-headed. Tharcourt counted twelve of these prisoners in all. A woman was brought out, young, and dressed in all white. She looked like someone of importance, and gave Tharcourt a hateful glance as she was led out by four stormtroopers and a lieutenant in uniform. The commander was soon summoned by an officer, another commander in a black uniform.
"Commander, your team is cleared to enter the ship, and report to Lord Vader." The officer spoke. Tharcourt gave the man a professional nod, and motioned for his team to follow. He stepped into the vessel, and walked down a hall, stepping gravely around the bodies of stormtroopers and rebels scattered about the deck. Blaster hits had scorched the walls, and the marks grew in number the deeper Tharcourt ventured into the vessel. More bodies. He let out a small scoff. What a pity so many brave men and women had to die. The ship was taken. The insurgents could have surrendered. That would have been rational. What a waste…
Reaching the end of the passageway, Tharcourt turned left. Lord Vader stood imposingly a short distance away, giving orders to some officer. He waited his turn, then approached the threatening figure and saluted. Despite the cyborg/assassin/wizard's imposing form and the terrifying stories surrounding him, Commander Tharcourt worked up the courage to speak to him as he would any high-ranking superior.
"Lord Vader." He began. "Commander Tharcourt, Imperial Special Forces. What can I do, sir?" Vader breathed a few times.
"Commander…" Vader returned, his voice deep and almost mechanical. "I want your team to make a final sweep of this ship. Find any useful information onboard. Locate any rebels who may have hidden themselves." He breathed a few more times, his head turned up as if he were smelling the air or listening intently to something Tharcourt could not hear. "There are still rebels aboard this ship. Find them. Capture them if you can. Kill them if you must!" Tharcourt gave a crisp salute.
"Yes, sir!" He returned, turning to the troops of Delta-7 as Vader stalked away. "We search for any critical information or rebels. And team, there are believed to be enemy combatants hidden on this ship. Find and capture them if possible. Weapons set to stun. Daraay, Gallen, your weapons have no stun feature. If any insurgents present a significant threat, neutralize."
"Yes, commander." Daraay's garbled and mechanical voice replied through the comms system. Gallen nodded.
"Split up. Daraay, Walker, Mets, with me. The rest of you go with Sergeant Felian. Felian, you take engineering to bridge and all rooms forward. Sergeant Daraay, we take crew quarters aft. Understood?"
"Yes sir." A chorus of voices answered. The team divided, Tharcourt taking his contingent toward the rear of the ship. They inspected every room they could find. Bunks, refreshers, the small lounge area, even the small cabinets in the galley. Nothing of value could be found. Not a scrap of information, not a holodisk, and not a single living person. They were in the aft weapons storage room, which showed obvious signs that the rebels on board had quickly and thoroughly cleaned it out during the attack. Small power cells and holsters littered the floor, and some of the lockers had been forced open in a hurry, breaking the locks. Tharcourt was inspecting a manifest tablet in the weapons room when a call came in from the other half of his team.
"Sir." Felian's voice called through Tharcourt's earpiece. "Can you get to engineering? We may have found something."
"We'll be there momentarily." Drakken replied. He motioned with his head to the three soldiers with him, and they quickly made their way to the engineering room. By a bulkhead stood the rest of his team, their blasters pointed toward what at first glance was a nondescript section of wall. Tharcourt moved close to Felian.
"What did you find, sergeant?" He asked in whisper. The scout pointed toward a spot on the wall.
"Looks odd, sir. Like a portion of it's been cut away then replaced." Felian explained. "Scanners indicate seven warm bodies inside."
"Good job, sergeant." Tharcourt whispered back. He ran his fingers along the groove outlining the three-by-six foot section of wall, and found what appeared to be bolts for latches on the inside. He pointed this out to Felian, who nodded. Tharcourt pulled his mic close to his mouth. "Prepare to breach." Felian and Mets each placed a breaching charge on the spots where bolts indicated hinges or latches, and the team stepped back. Daraay prepared a stun charge, and held it at the ready.
"Execute." The commander stated, and the door was blown from its moorings. Daraay tossed in the stun charge, which detonated before the false wall had even stopped wobbling on the floor. The first to the smoke-filled opening were Walker, Coleth and Lago. Somehow, the rebels inside weren't completely incapacitated by the deafening blast and blinding light, and blaster bolts began to fly out of the opening. Walker was immediately hit three times. The stormtrooper was shoved back nearly a meter, and fell to the ground, two more bolts striking him in the chest as he fell. Lago was hit in the arm as he attempted to maneuver sideways, out of the line of fire.
"Light it up!" Tharcourt yelled, as the next two troops in the stack, Daraay and Mets, joined Coleth, the death trooper pivoting into the opening, rapidly firing her massive blaster into the confined space as Mets and Coleth saturated the chamber with stun blasts. Lago at the same time, jammed the muzzle of his E-11 into the doorway, and fired off stun bolts as fast as he could pull the trigger. A startled but always accurate Gallen actually ran behind Daraay, and fired bolts from his sniper rifle over the death trooper's shoulders.
"Cease fire!" Tharcourt finally yelled. The entire firefight had only lasted eleven seconds. Now, it was deathly quiet as the commander quickly assessed the situation. "Medic up! Check Walker! Daraay, Felian, on me!" With that, Tharcourt drew his SR14r, and plunged into the hazy doorway. He found himself in a small room, perhaps six feet across, and spanning out twenty feet to the left and right. His two subordinates turned, Daraay clearing left, while Felian cleared right, the lights on their blasters cutting through the white smoke from the short but intense firefight in the small space.
"Clear left." Daraay reported.
"Contact right. Unarmed." Felian remarked. Daraay pivoted and joined Felian as he walked toward the form of a person at the end of the room. Tharcourt's attention remained on the six rebels crumpled up on the floor at his feet. Four were shot to pieces and no doubt very, very dead. One was stunned, and wounded in his right leg and left arm. The last held the commander's undivided attention.
A rebel woman, wearing the same uniform as the others, was trying desperately to raise a blaster pistol. Tharcourt could see the burn marks and blood covering her shirt and pants. She must have taken the brunt of Daraay and Gallen's fusillade. She was dying, he could see that. It was baffling that this insurgent was even still alive. She coughed, and blood gushed from her mouth. Still, her eyes were locked on Commander Tharcourt with a terrible fire. She attempted to raise the blaster. Tharcourt caught her wrist with the sole of his durasteel-toed boot, and shoved her arm to the floor. With a crunch, he ground his heel into her wrist, the pistol falling from her hand.
"You'll never…win." The woman spat, her life wilting away. Tharcourt thought of Walker, laying outside the room…badly wounded, maybe worse. He pictured all of the Imperial soldiers killed taking this ship.
"Insurgencies are best fought by the clever." He said coldly, raising his SR14 to the rebel's head. "You are not." He pulled the trigger once, ending the extremist's life. He let out a sigh, and shoved the blaster pistol back into his leg holster. "Move in. One of them's alive." He stepped aside to let Coleth and Ekks drag the wounded rebel out of the room and start hauling him away. Felian and Daraay stepped up with their prisoner, cuffed and held between them.
"Children…" Drakken commented sadly. He took hold of the rebel girl's chin, and lifted her head up so he could better see her face. She indeed had the appearance of a young girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen, but was dressed in the same uniform as the others. "They're enlisting children…" The girl stared into his face, a terrified look in her eyes.
"Please sir…I didn't do anything…" She said in a soft and frightened voice. "I didn't shoot…I swear…" The commander had a tinge of pity, and his breath hitched for a moment.
"Take her away." He finally said gently. The two sergeants complied, and he was left alone in the chamber. He gave the dead insurgents a final look, shook his head disappointedly, and exited. Outside, Dall was knelt beside Walker, grimly placing his medical devices back in their pouch. The team medic looked up at the commander. His helmet moved in a slow, solemn 'no'. Tharcourt closed his eyes for a moment, and exhaled. He tapped the edge of the doorway a few times with his balled up left hand.
"Alright…" He muttered.
The team regrouped in the hall outside of the engineering area. The two prisoners were being guarded by Felian. Tharcourt motioned with his hand, and the team began to move toward the exit of the ship, Tharcourt taking up position near the young rebel they had captured. As they walked, the young girl spoke.
"I don't even know what's going on…" She pleaded. "I…I don't…please…listen sir…" Tharcourt tried to ignore her.
"I didn't shoot, I didn't…" The girl pleaded. "I didn't even know what we were doing, sir. I hid because I was scared." Tharcourt continued to walk alongside the girl, trying to keep a stern face. Inside, he was conflicted. He knew the girl was telling the truth. He'd seen soldiers, and this little girl was no soldier. She had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and was about to pay a severe price for the company she kept. She was crying now. "I'm not a rebel. I've never even fired a blaster before. You have to believe me…" That was all he could take.
"Halt!" He ordered. The entire procession stopped. Tharcourt grabbed the teenage prisoner by her shirt, and pushed her away from the group, pinning her against the wall. She looked on the verge of panic as Tharcourt leaned in.
"I know you're not a killer." He stated, looking into her eyes. "You had no business on that damned ship, and now you're going to a very bad place, you understand that?" She nodded fearfully. "Listen to me. Listen. They're going to hurt you. Bad. They're going to ask you questions. Answer them. Tell them everything, for the love of whatever diety you hold dear. Give them names of everyone you even think is a rebel." Again, the young girl nodded her head in understanding. Tharcourt felt a knot in his stomach, thinking about what might happen to this poor girl.
"Tell them everything. Be respectful. Swear to join the Imperial military, and do it. Please. I am trying to save your life."
"I…I will." The girl squeaked. Tharcourt sighed, and gently dragged her back into line.
"Sir?" Daraay queried, somewhat confused.
"She's no rebel, sergeant." Tharcourt commented in a lackluster tone. "Just some stupid kid who hitched a ride on the wrong ship. Just gave her some advice."
"Yes sir." Daraay replied.
They exited the rebel corvette with their prisoners. Outside in the hanger bay, the captured rebels were being divided up into two groups. One was being taken immediately to the destroyer's detention block. The other was being held in the hanger, likely awaiting transfer to The Accuser. A female officer in a navy uniform was pacing in front of the captured rebels. She looked to see Tharcourt and his men exit the corvette with their two captives, and motioned for him to join her. He led his unit to the officer, the captain he had met before, Raliss. They exchanged perfunctory salutes.
"Good, commander." The captain said with a smile that seemed both pleased and vitriolic. "I see you've found some rats that were overlooked."
"Yes, it appears that way, captain…" Tharcourt answered. "You wish to take possession of these prisoners?"
"Of course." The blonde-haired woman answered cordially, perking her eyebrows up almost eagerly. She narrowed her pale blue eyes at the commander a moment, making him feel uncomfortable. "Haven't I met you before? Yes, on board The Accuser."
"Ah, yes. I'm currently assigned to The Accuser, captain. Special Duties. High-level tomfoolery, mostly."
"Sent here to make sure the job was done right, I take it." Raliss spoke haughtily. "This makes me eight prisoners now, thanks to you. The warden of The Devastator isn't very gracious. It doesn't surprise. If it were not Lord Vader's personal ship at the moment, I would almost call this vessel a garbage scow." Tharcourt looked around the hanger, trying to figure out what could be wrong with such a ship.
"Hm. I suppose. I am getting rather used to The Accuser myself." He said, usually not one for small talk, and now with the thoughts of his fallen trooper on his mind, this kind of drivel seemed almost pointless.
"Indeed. I crave cleanliness and order." The captain commented. "Are you from Coruscant, commander?"
"No, I'm afraid not." Tharcourt replied with a polite smile.
"Oh. Of course not. You have that certain…unpolished and roguish charm. Ord Mirit?"
"Garos IV, actually." The commander stated. The captain's face quickly twisted into a sour expression.
"Oh. Outer Rim. I see." She said dismissively.
"We um…we like to think of ourselves as Mid-Rim, actually." He shot back matter-of-factly.
"I'm sure." She answered dryly. "Thank you for the prisoners, captain. I must go log them in now." With that, she simply walked off, waving for her escort of stormtroopers and a lone lieutenant to follow her. Tharcourt watched as she disappeared through a hatchway.
"Coruscant officers." He stated with a scowl. He turned to his unit. They stood in a perfect line now, almost perfect…save that one of them was missing.
"Alright troopers." He said. "We're heading back to The Accuser as soon as those prisoners are logged in, and we have clearance. Mess hall is down the hall, like on all of these ships. Go hydrate and…grab some rats if you want. You all did well today. Meet back here in an hour. Dismissed…for now." The team all broke formation and headed off to their own individual destinations. Tharcourt turned his attention back to the corvette. There was something he had to do.
Commander Tharcourt had a belief. If someone had the loyalty to stand beside you in battle, you owed it to them to make sure that they weren't just left behind and forgotten if they were killed in the field. So, he walked back toward the corvette, a self-imposed mission that he would not leave undone. He walked past his shuttle, and past the prisoner ship, his eyes locked on the portal that would take him back into the now-empty enemy vessel. He didn't see the figure peer at him from the window of the prisoner ship, or the same person scurry down the ramp.
"Commander Tharcourt!" A familiar voice called happily. He shook himself from his grim focus and turned to see Ensign Thorne standing before him. She was wearing the same odd uniform, and had the most joyful expression on her pale and freckled face the commander had ever seen on an officer in time of war. She saluted him. "Sorry…sir!" He couldn't help but smile a little himself. He saluted back, and they went back to simply standing like officers with nothing to do.
"It's good to see you again, Thorne." He said. He could've sworn that her smile somehow got bigger.
"You too, commander." She returned. "How are you? I saw you earlier…when you were over there." She nodded toward the wall where his team had been staged. "An' I watched you and yer team go into th' ship, and bring those two prisoners out." She sighed. "I wanted to come say 'ello to you, but my captain told me to stay on the ship."
"Well…" Tharcourt mused. He scoffed. "Aren't you breaking protocol right now, though?" She blushed a little.
"I s'pose. I just wanted to see you, sir. I…I can go back if you think it best." She now had a dejected look. Tharcourt waved a hand.
"No, it's alright, I guess. Just for a minute." Drakken said "You'd better get back onboard before your captain comes back though. Now that I've had a chance to meet and greet with that unpleasant woman…I see why you have problems." Thorne sighed and shook her head.
"That bad, commander?" She asked wryly.
"Well, she ranted about this ship being filthy, then pretty much insulted me for being from the Mid-Rim."
"Aye…that's her." Thorne breathed. "She 'ates anyone not from the Core Worlds. Try bein' a lowly ensign from th' untamed wil'erness of the Outer Rim. Ye'd think I was a Gammorean for pity's sake."
"Yes…I know the type." Tharcourt nodded. "I went to academy too, you know…" He looked back at the hatch of the ship, and the orderlies were already starting to drag bodies out. They were being piled unceremoniously onto hover carts for disposal. One set for rebels, the other for Imperial soldiers. He knew where they would be taken. All corpses on board Imperial vessels were stripped and placed into incinerators. It was the most cost-effective and efficient way of dealing with the dead. And so impersonal. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.
"Sir?" Thorne asked. "Is something wrong?" He opened his eyes and glanced at the young officer.
"No…I just…I have something to do." He said in a low voice that concerned Freya. "You should um…you should go back to your ship now, ensign…I have to take care of something." She was now a bit worried about Commander Tharcourt. He seemed distant all of a sudden, even sad. She watched him walk slowly into the rebel ship. Thorne now felt she had to make a choice. She looked back at the prisoner transport, then back to the rebel ship. She huffed, and jogged toward the corvette.
"I'm with that commander." She stated to the stormtrooper guarding the door. He nodded.
"Yes, ma'am." It was the first time she'd given something resembling an order, and the first time someone had called her ma'am. And she didn't even get to enjoy it. She saw Tharcourt up ahead, disappearing around a corner. She walked further into the ship, trying not to look at the dead bodies. It was awful, and the smell of blood and hot metal assaulted her nose. She almost tripped over a dead rebel, and felt disgust at the fact that her bare toes had touched a dead body. Freya whimpered, but continued on.
Tharcourt took off his battle helmet, and knelt down beside the lifeless form of his trooper. It always felt so odd. These men, they had their own voices and accents, their own personalities, their own fears and dreams and quirks. When they died, it was so damned odd. They looked just like each other. Everything that made them individuals was finally gone, leaving only cold flesh in their identical white armor. They finally became what the Empire tried to make them.
"At ease, Walker." He whispered. He slowly reached out and took the trooper's helmet in his hands. He broke the seal and lifted the bucket off, setting it on the deck nearby. He was silent a moment, then grasped the chain of the man's identification tag, breaking it off the fallen trooper's neck. He stared at the twin circles of durasteel in his hand for a moment, becoming aware of someone standing behind him. He didn't have to turn around.
"Dermot Krays." Tharcourt stated. "He said to call him 'Walker'." He heard light footsteps, and Thorne knelt beside him.
"Wh…why?" She asked, unsure of what to say to this man who she knew was emotionally hurting. Tharcourt made a cynical scoff of a laugh.
"He could operate any walker built. Even those old Republic things with all the legs." Drakken answered. He broke one of the discs loose, and placed it in the man's armor for identification. He slid the rest into a small pouch on his belt. "Walker was gonna get married soon. He was a good man…a good soldier." Freya placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry, commander." She whispered. He nodded. Suddenly, Tharcourt scooped up his battle helmet, and clamped it on his head, not even bothering to fasten the chin straps.
"Be damned if anyone's going to move him but me." He growled. He placed the trooper's helmet back on his head, and grabbed the dead soldier by the wrists.
Thorne stood and backed away as Tharcourt began to laboriously drag Krays' body to the hallway. He grunted and swore with each tug as he pulled his trooper foot by foot. Freya felt tears in her eyes watching this. She already knew that Commander Tharcourt was a good person, but had never seen an officer this devoted to someone under them. She'd been taught in academy that your soldiers were expendable, nothing but a means to an end. Now watching this was almost heart-wrenching.
"Then do something, ye wench…" She whispered to herself. Thorne marched down the hall, and grabbed the ankles of the fallen stormtrooper. Tharcourt froze, and stared at her. He opened his mouth, ready to tell her to move, to tell her that this was his burden and his alone. Freya looked him in the eyes, daring him to make her stop.
"Don't." She stated. "Yer A great man, Commander Drakken Tharcourt. I'm helpin' ye, sir." Tharcourt nodded, and Freya hefted the man's lower body off the ground. The two of them carried Krays' body off the ship together, and placed it on a hovercart already containing eight bodies. The nearby orderly, a midshipman, along with two enlisted men in work uniforms, paused to watch the scene. Two officers carrying a dead stormtrooper was not something seen every day. They placed the body carefully on the cart, and Tharcourt sighed, then turned away. Thorne followed him back toward their ships.
"Thank you…Thorne." Tharcourt finally said, not even looking in her direction.
"Mm." She answered, still a little shook from the event. "It was…nothin', sir. I had t' help." Tharcourt stopped and turned to her.
"I guess we're…even now, huh?" He commented. Freya offered a warm smile.
"Far from it, sir." She returned. "I'll ne'er forget what you did for me." Tharcourt smiled sadly. "I got t' be goin', commander. Before Captain Raliss gets back." She scoffed and rolled her green eyes. "Wouldn't want t' get in trouble an' all." Tharcourt paused, then held out his hand. Freya took it, and they shook. "Hope t' see you around…sir."
"You too…Thorne." Drakken returned with a small smile. He watched as she turned and strode back on board the small transport, her arms clasped behind her like he always did when he walked, her absurdly long bundle of red-orange hair swaying gently as she moved. He shook his head. She was a little strange, but one thing was for sure. Tharcourt couldn't say that he was genuinely glad for meeting many people, but Ensign Freya Thorne was now on that short list.
Whew! Lot to unpack there. The Tantive IV...Cameo by Leia...Vader...Walker got killed. That enough for one chapter? Please tell me what you thought in your reviews and PM's. I'll try and have the next chapter up tomorrow. Until then loyal readers, may the force be with you...unless you're Mandalorian. If that's the case, then fav and review, because this is the way. Until our next installment, Cheerio! -Drake