Drakken Tharcourt sat at his desk, thinking about his life and his career. He was sure of who he was. His life and his past had constructed him, had molded him into the person he had become. The young guerilla leader from Garos 4, the junior officer who was always ready with new ideas and methods of solving old problems. The field officer who was determined to wage war the way he thought was best, to fight all enemies of the Empire on his terms or die trying. He looked up from his desk at the young woman sitting before him.
"I take it you would want to stay here the rest of the evening." He spoke.
"Yes…I mean, if ye don't mind, sir." Thorne answered.
"If I minded, I wouldn't have asked." Tharcourt said softly. She smiled.
"Thank ye'…so much for this…" She whispered.
"Yeah…" Tharcourt answered. He cleared his throat. "I'm sure you don't want to sit in this office all evening. You want to go meet some of my team?" She sniffed and wiped her eyes.
"I…I'd love to." She said. "I mean, I met a couple of 'em when I came in…" Drakken smiled.
"Come on." He led Freya out into the commons room to find Gallen, Felian, Ekks, Dall and Lago gathered there, curiously watching their commander as he exited the office with the young ensign in tow. They had heard raised voices and a crash earlier, and though their inquisitiveness was running full throttle, they all knew better than to interrupt something seemingly so important and heated between two officers.
"Men, I want you to meet Ensign Freya Thorne. She is um…joining us today from Prisoner Interrogation and Disposal." Drakken began.
"I and D?" Ekks choked.
"Oh, nothing official." Tharcourt said dismissively. "She just needed help with a problem. We've sort of known each other since…well I suppose we were both assigned to The Accuser about the same time."
"Sergeant Felian, ma'am." The scout sergeant stated, standing rigidly. "I have seen you before, ma'am. In the training hall a while back. Your work with an electrostaff is…very impressive." She blushed a little.
"Thank you…trooper." She returned nervously. "You…you saw all a' that, yeah?"
"Well, not all, ma'am." Felian replied. "You were on level eight I think when the commander had me leave." She exhaled in relief that someone else had not witnessed her episode with the training droids.
"Yep, this is Sergeant Felian, Thorne." Drakken introduced. "The best tracker in the Empire. That is Corporal Dall." He motioned toward the medic. "He's a medical droid posing as a human." Dall chuckled. "Trooper Lago there can speak fluent droid and Hutt, along with half a dozen other languages."
"Ne'er met someone who could speak droid." Thorne said.
"Ekks here is from Corellia. He's our pilot, and resident burglar." Tharcourt continued, motioning toward the stormtrooper, who stood close by. Thorne smiled politely, but backed up a step.
"Don't worry ma'am." Ekks commented. "I don't steal from officers…um…usually. And never from the commander or his associates." Freya was starting to become confused. What kind of unit was Tharcourt running?
"And of course, we have Gallen, our marksman. He can shoot the transmitter antenna off of an astromech at seventy-five meters." Gallen grinned innocently, and Freya pursed her lips.
"Oh, yer pullin' one on me now, C'mander." She quipped. He could finally hear a smidge of humor returning in her somber tone.
"No…I actually saw him do that…" Tharcourt declared. Freya looked back to the sniper, who just shrugged.
"Oh…" She sounded. "That's…that's an amazin' shot."
"Thanks." Gallen returned. He gave a cocky smile to the young ensign. "You know, ma'am…I could teach you some long-range techniques sometimes if you…" He was interrupted by Commander Tharcourt clearing his throat.
"Thorne, the rest of my team is off doing whatever they do on their day off." There was a buzz from somewhere in the room.
"Change of guard." Ekks groaned. "I'll take my post, sir." Tharcourt nodded, and the trooper slid his helmet on and left the room. A minute later, the death trooper who had admitted Freya earlier stepped into the room. The young ensign stood in silent awe at the imposing form of the soldier. Everyone had heard of these troopers. They were the most highly-trained and deadly soldiers the Imperial military had to offer. The troopers were supposedly built for this task, and Freya remembered rumors about them being dead bodies, brought back to life using strange scientific processes and cybernetic attachments. The thought made her shudder. It seemed so unnatural.
"Ah. Ensign Thorne." Tharcourt said. "This is Sergeant Daraay, my heavy weapons specialist and assigned bodyguard." The death trooper nodded in greeting, and Thorne tried a friendly smile. She watched the death trooper walk to the small kitchenette, and pour a cup of water. Then to her horror, the trooper reached up and started to slide off its helmet. Freya wanted to look away, but her morbid curiosity got the better of her. The black helmet was removed, and Thorne was frozen in shock for a moment. There was no mechanically augmented corpse underneath the helmet. Sergeant Daraay was a normal-looking albeit strongly built woman of about thirty. The sergeant gave her a nod and drained the cup of water.
"Don't worry, ma'am…" Thorne heard a voice whisper beside her. She turned to see the young stormtrooper Lago standing there. "I had the same reaction." Thorne felt herself smile a little. She had never met so many oddball soldiers before, and she kind of liked it. She knew from the first time that she'd met him that Drakken…Commander Tharcourt was an unusual officer. Not that it was a bad thing. She had to admit to herself that, at least compared to all of the other young people in academy and the other officers on the ship, she was a bit strange too. But he was different in another way.
Most officers were cold and sullen. Tharcourt on the other hand, despite the martial and severe manner in which he usually acted (and she was certain that he could be a terrible foe in battle), he was also understanding and had a kindness about him she felt drawn to. He was not only kind, but fun to be around too. So was his team. In a way, they reminded Freya so much of her own people; warriors through and through, but with a zest for life and a sense of humor. She felt at home with the commander and his team of unusual commandos.
She wanted so badly to ask Tharcourt if she could join his team, but something held her back. Would it be proper to ask something like that? Would he say no? She had already gotten him involved in her problems, and that alone seemed like so much to ask of a man she barely knew. It had been so generous of Tharcourt to offer to help her. Far above what she could expect anyone to do. If he could get her free from the officer who abused her and used her like a slave, it would be one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for her. She could ask no more of him than that.
She looked about at the soldiers under Commander Tharcourt. Most of them had gone back to doing what they had been doing before she had entered the room. Which was very little to be honest. The sniper was sitting lackadaisically on a padded bench, bouncing a rubber ball on the floor and catching it repeatedly. Felian seemed to be studying some information on a datapad, and the death trooper, Daraay, was field stripping her blaster at an ad-hoc work bench in the corner. A strange group, but definitely soldiers, that much was for certain.
"So commander," Freya began. "What is it that you an' yer' team does…exactly?"
"Hm. Don't think I'm allowed to discuss it…" Tharcourt pondered. "…at least in the notion of discussing our missions. I guess you can say that we have a special job in the Imperial military." She looked at him inquisitively. "We basically go in and handle with a small team what would normally take a legion to accomplish, and we do it with a lot less…collateral damage."
"Ohhh." Thorne mused. "I thought so. Yer' one of those units…the ones that do the sneaky, covert missions." She smiled deviously. "Goin' 'round blooin' stuff up an' 'sassinatin' enemy gen'rals an' stuff." Tharcourt grinned and shrugged.
"If you say so, young lady." He replied with an air of ambiguousness.
"I would love to do that sort a' thing…" Thorne commented. She sighed. "One day, I mean."
"You never know." Tharcourt said reassuringly. "Whatever you want to do…do it with all your heart and soul, and you'll be successful." He nodded. "I think some wise old admiral said that." Freya smiled warmly.
"Actually sir…" Gallen countered from nearby. "I think that was the weird showman guy with the travelling circus."
"Whatever." The commander waved. "Point still stands." He turned to Freya. The girl still looked like she had been through the trash compacter and jettisoned into space. "You um…you want to do what we did the first time we met?" She was confused a moment, then it donned on her what the commander was referring to. She hadn't had much of a breakfast, and throwing up had expunged from her what little food she had in her system. She didn't feel much like eating, but she knew she had to try to get something in her, if only to keep her body operational for the moment.
"Yeah…I mean yes sir." She answered.
"Then I'll accompany you…Ensign." He returned, a slight jest at her constantly using ranks, even when off-duty. They exited the room, leaving behind a slightly confused Felian, Gallen and Lago. Dall had learned not to question odd behavior from officers, and Daraay had more important things to occupy her time.
"So…she going to be joining the unit?" Lago queried, jabbing a thumb toward the hatch. He just supposed that this new officer was some new recruit for Delta-7.
"Eh." Gallen shrugged. "I figured the old man took our advice and got a ladyfriend."
"The commander?" Lago shot back. He looked at the door. "Nah. I think she's joining the team."
"Say what you want, Lago." The sniper sighed. "They looked awfully chummy there."
"I think you're both nuts." Felian stated, not looking up from the fieldcraft guide he was reading. "If it's anything, it's just some military inter-departmental liaison thing. Gossiping like cadets..."
"Yeah…you're probably right." Gallen said. "She is kinda cute though…you get a look at that uniform? Whew…" Lago shook his head in agreement.
"Yeah, she's a looker…" Dall finally spoke from the kitchenette. "But know what happened to the last trooper that started courting around with one of those prisoner interrogation gals though?"
"What?" Lago asked, intrigued.
"I dunno. It's been so long since anyone's seen him." The medic replied.
"I think I will agree with Sergeant Felian." Daraay stated, finally snapping the last part of her blaster back into place. She spun about on the stool, her blaster rifle's stock resting on her armored thigh. "I think you're both nuts."
Tharcourt and Thorne sat at a table by themselves in the officer's mess hall. The cafeteria was once again mostly deserted, owing to the commander's penchant for going to the facility between proper meal times. The mess staff had grown accustomed to him at this point, and he didn't even have to show his pass to the sergeant before they were given two trays of food. As he ate, Tharcourt watched as Thorne morosely picked at her meal.
"You okay, Thorne?" He finally asked.
"Hm? Oh, yeah…I'm fine." She whispered.
"Mm." He grunted. "Liar." She glanced at him to see Tharcourt giving her a concerned look. "You love food, Freya."
"Just…not very hungry today." She muttered.
"I know." He said with a nod. "I wouldn't be either." He offered a small smile. "At least try and eat your cake. It actually passes for sustenance today." The edges of her lips flicked up slightly for a moment. "Ah…ah…was that a smile, ensign?" He joked. She smiled a little.
"How do you always make me feel better, commander?" Freya asked, then clamped her mouth shut. She felt almost mortified for making that statement. It seemed so out of line. Tharcourt didn't notice.
"I don't know…" He answered. "Maybe you just need someone normal to talk to." He took a drink of his water. Thorne picked at her cake.
"I mean…ye don't have to." She thought out-loud.
"Person's got to decide where their compass is pointing I guess." He shrugged. "You can be an ass to everyone you meet, or you can do what you think is the right thing. Even as a soldier. I guess it's kind of like…Kill those that need killing, and save those that need saving."
"Interesting philosophy…" Thorne commented. She tasted the cake. It was indeed passable today. "You'd fit in great with my people."
"Would I?"
"I think so. I was raised t' be a warrior, to fight when needed. But I was also raised t' take care of others an' have fun, and to live life…you know?"
"Because a warrior could be dead tomorrow." Tharcourt stated.
"That's 'xactly the idea of it." Freya declared. "Be a great warrior, but 'ave a good time doin' it."
"Your homeworld does sounds interesting." Drakken said. "And your people sound like they have a lot figured out." He took the candy off of his plate and put it on Freya's. "Despite what that woman has to say about it." Thorne looked at the candy, then the man's words hit her. She felt like tearing up, but choked it down.
"Thank you." She whispered. She was silent a moment. "She means t' break me, Drakken."
"You're not broken. Not yet." Tharcourt stated. "Not by a longshot." She nodded.
After the meal, and Freya bundling up the two servings of candy into a napkin and placing them in the inside pocket of her tunic, Tharcourt took Ensign Thorne to the training hall. He checked out an electrostaff from the arms room, and with Freya following curiously, they went to the same close-quarters training area where they had met.
"What are we doing?" Thorne asked.
"Training." He finally said. He tossed the weapon to the young Breohan, and she caught it deftly mid-air. Drakken gave an approving nod. "I saw what you could do on your own. I want to show you something." He walked to the control terminal and dialed something in. Then to Freya's surprise, the commander joined her on the floor, unsnapping the holster on his right leg. "Ready Thorne?"
"Sir?" She gasped, realizing what he was getting at. Six training droids emerged from the floor around them. She ignited the electrostaff, and felt the commander press his back into hers. She looked down for a moment to see his hand hovering just over the grip of his blaster pistol. The droids activated, and without thinking about what was going on behind her, she attacked the closest training unit, dodging stun bolts from two more as she disabled it. She was aware of blaster fire behind her as she struck out with the pole arm, striking another droid in the face, shutting it down. A bolt flew over Freya's right shoulder, and she dropped to a knee and stabbed rearward, catching the last droid in the chest. Thorne stood and deactivated the electostaff in her hands. She turned to see Commander Tharcourt facing her, three deactivated droids on the floor behind him. He spun his blaster a few times in each direction, then holstered it, a smile on his face.
"Good staff work." He stated. "Got my three first though."
"Oh ye rascal…easy 'nough when ye got a blaster!" She shot back. He shrugged cockily.
"Want to do it again, then?" Tharcourt asked.
"What, do I want t' do it again?" She answered in a playful tone. "What is it yer tryin' t' show me again?"
"That it's a hell of a lot easier to face bad odds when you have someone watching your six, Freya." He answered seriously. She nodded in understanding, and marveled at how this man had just turned a training exercise into some deep metaphysical lesson. "And I wanted to see something."
"What?"
"You never really know someone till you've fought beside them." He replied.
"And?" Freya asked.
"I know I can trust you." He said simply. "Now…what do you say we go to eight?" He heard a hum as the electrostaff powered on.
"With you here with me, Drakken…" She said confidently, her eyes narrowing mischievously. "I say we can go ten."
An hour later, the two officers were standing by the entry to the training hall, rubbing the spots where they had been hit by the stun bolts. It was getting late, and Freya was preparing to return to her quarters for the evening. She didn't want to go. She wanted to stay with the commander and his team. She knew better though. If he were going to help her escape from Captain Raliss, she would have to stay at her post every day and do her duty as always, pretending everything was fine. She would trust Tharcourt to do what he was going to do in order to help her out of her predicament. As she looked at him, irritably rubbing his shoulder, she felt more at peace than she had been since leaving home. She knew that she had a friend.
"I guess you've got to be going then." Tharcourt said, sounding a little disappointed himself.
"Yeah…" She sighed. "Would it be alright if I come back to visit…you know, with you and your team?"
"Any time you want." He stated. "And I mean that. You're welcome anytime, Freya. As good friends should be." He held out a hand, and Freya took it in a friendly shake.
"I'll see you soon then, Drakken." She said softly.
"See you soon, Freya." He responded with a smile. She nodded, huffed a resigned sigh and turned, walking up the long hall. Tharcourt dawdled a bit in the corridor. It seemed odd to have made a friend of the young officer. It was obvious that she needed one in the worst way, and he was happy that he could be there for her. Once again, an odd feeling, but one he wasn't unhappy about for sure. Tharcourt started to walk back to the team area, his arms folded behind him, deep in thought as he moved. He'd never had that many friends or allies, but he would do anything for them. And Freya was no exception. He entered the commons room, and as soon as he had stepped into the hatch, Tharcourt rubbed a sore spot on his chest. He looked to see several of his troopers gazing at him with looks of intense interest.
"What?" He asked in a demanding tone.
"How was it, sir?" Gallen asked, an assuming smirk on his face.
"Come again, Gallen?" Tharcourt droned.
"The young lady…how was it?" The sniper clarified. Felian threw a plastoid cup at him. Tharcourt rolled his eyes. Perverts.
"Well, I can tell you that I'm going to be sore for a couple days." The commander answered. Gallen and Mets snickered. Felian raised an eyebrow. "Those stun bolts kriffin' hurt." Gallen's face twisted into such a confused and horrified look that Tharcourt almost laughed. "She's damned good with an electrostaff though. Damned good."
"What in the stars were you two doing?" Lago choked.
"Training of course. She's a CQB expert, Lago." Tharcourt answered matter-of-factly. Half the room exhaled in relief.
"She IS joining the unit then." The stormtrooper from Tatooine stated smugly.
"Oh no…she and I are just friends, and she needed help with something. We spent the evening in the training hall catching up and deactivating simulation droids." Tharcourt explained, content with telling a half-truth for the moment, at least with most of the team. He would need help from some of them for what he was about to do. Speaking of which…
"Sergeant Daraay…Sergeant Felian…" He said. "Can you two come into my office a moment? He walked into his small office, and the two NCOs followed. Tharcourt closed the door and turned to the pair, who stood there wondering what this could be about. "I um…I have a favor to ask. And I know it is going to sound very unusual, and maybe even a bit…illicit." He sighed. "You two…there's no one on this team, or in this navy that I trust more. What I am about to ask…it must be kept completely confidential."
"My allegiance is to you, commander." Daraay responded. "So long as this doesn't counter my duties to the Empire, I will follow your orders."
"I'm…I'm with Daraay, sir." Felian added. "This sounds pretty grim, and I'm going to trust that you know what you're talking about." He shrugged. "You never led us off course so far, sir." Tharcourt nodded solemnly. He lit a cigarra and took a long drag.
"The ensign that was just here. What do you think about her?"
"She seemed like...well…a likeable officer, sir." Felian answered. "Nothing bad I could see, and I know you two are friends." Tharcourt looked to Daraay.
"I noted that Ensign Thorne was nervous, but seemed to enjoy being in our company, sir." The death trooper stated. "She didn't seem to be the type to engage in anything dangerous or illegal, sir."
"She's not." Tharcourt agreed. "It is her superior officer, Captain Raliss that I'm worried about."
"I'm not sure I understand, commander." Felian remarked. Tharcourt inhaled deeply.
"I want you two to find out anything and everything you can about this Captain Raliss. Low-key intel gathering. Minimal risk. I need her background and a behavioral profile if you can." He explained. "I hope this isn't asking too much of you."
"No sir." The scout trooper replied. "Like I said…I figure if you're asking, it must be important."
"I may or may not, under orders…have gathered intel on Imperial officers before, sir." Sergeant Daraay said. "It is more common a practice than you may think." Tharcourt remembered the in-depth biography the ISB had written on him. It was sobering how much one could find out about another in this galaxy, how easily one's deepest secrets could be laid bare. Now he was doing it himself…but at least it was for benevolent reasons. What was it the ISB agent had said to him during that meeting? Oh yes, Drakken Tharcourt was now playing very close to a black hole.
"Alright…make it so." He muttered. "And like I said, this is strictly between the three of us." The two sergeants nodded dutifully. "Thank you. You can go now." The two left his office, and Drakken felt that whatever fate now tied him to Ensign Freya Thorne had officially been signed and sealed in blood. He was committed to helping the girl. What if he couldn't? That was a sobering thought. Then again, being an ensign only lasted a year at most. It would be easy enough to keep her sane for that long, perhaps. What if this thing turned out to be a success, and he managed to somehow rescue her from the clutches of the cruel captain? He thought about that. He could maybe pull some strings, get her transferred somewhere better. What about to his unit? The men seemed to like her, and she'd probably fit in well enough. It was a hard-fighting combat unit though. Would she be able to handle it?
Tharcourt decided to drop the issue for the time-being and read up on some information he'd researched. He had recently acquired a catalogue of intelligence reports and after-action reports on the infamous rebel leader Saw Guererra. The insurgent leader had orchestrated hundreds of successful raids on Imperial convoys and garrisons, and was suspected to be behind hundreds more bombings and assassinations. Drakken brought up the information on a datapad, poured a cup of caf and delved into the sobering data on a guerilla fighter who dwarfed the things he had done on Garos 4.
Three hours later, and Tharcourt was getting tired of the disturbing reports he'd been mulling over. It had helped him to gain some insight into the chaotic minds of these rebels, but had also revealed how sinister and devious the terrorists really were. Saw was not just a guerilla. He was a murderer and a war criminal. And probably insane. Tharcourt had just read something that Guererra had written on the wall of an Imperial barracks he and his men had blown up, killing a dozen stormtroopers;
'The time will soon come when the best laid plans of the Empire are laid bare, their weapons useless in the face of the truth: The dream cannot die.'
He had just finished reading the disturbing message, when the emergency alarm of The Accuser suddenly began blaring, and Tharcourt looked up from the datapad on his desk. Something was wrong. He had been on this ship for three months, and had only heard the alarm during scheduled tests. The klaxon sounded only three times, followed by an announcement.
"All hear this. All hear this. Vessel is now under emergency alert status. Preparing hyperspace jump. All noncommissioned personnel please remain at your posts for the time being." The commander leapt up and opened the door to his office. In the commons-room, Daraay was already putting on her helmet. Dall had just emerged from the bunk room, looking about in confusion. Gallen and Mets gave Tharcourt a questioning stare as he entered the room.
"Men, I have no idea what is going on. We're jumping into hyperspace, so I'm sure we're in no direct danger. Everyone stay frosty. Just in case though…Daraay, contact all team members. Get them here doubletime. I'm going to see if I can't figure out what's going on. He turned back into his office, his mind turning. An attack on the destroyer? No. There was no ship that could touch a star destroyer. And Piett would not run anyway. Some emergency in another part of the galaxy then. But what? Tharcourt dropped into his chair, and his index finger was hovering over the button for the desk's communication device, when the pad beeped. He hesitated a moment, then hit the button.
"Commander Tharcourt…" He answered curiously.
"Drakken!" Piett's voice came over the speaker almost in a frenzy. "The rebels have…turn on the holonet, quickly!" Tharcourt pushed a nearby button and a holographic display appeared, hovering over his desk. A reporter of the Imperial News Network was talking as an image of a debris field in space was shown.
"..all that remains of the Empire's new experimental orbital battlestation, DS-1." The reporter spoke. "Reports we have indicate that an insidious attack by rebel agents resulted in the complete destruction of the platform and with it, an unknown number of Imperial personnel were injured and killed. We will continue to bring you reports…"
"What…" Tharcourt gasped. "They…they destroyed that thing?"
"With every man aboard, Drakken." Piett sighed over the intercom. "And you should know…Governor Tarkin was aboard when it happened." Tharcourt was disgusted almost to the point of being physical ill. How did these rebels manage to do this? "And Colonel Yularen." Piett added somberly. That was a blow to the commander. Drakken felt a sense of dread, a coldness in his chest. Both of his superiors had been killed, likely with their subordinates and staff alongside them. Delta-7 answered directly to those two men and now with them gone, Tharcourt's unit was essentially a headless serpent.
"I don't…" He stammered.
"I know." Firmus returned sadly. "It's a dark day for all of us, my friend. See to your command, Drakken. It's our duty. We have to make sure that they can soldier through this." The captain's voice paused a moment. "We're headed there now. Yavin-4. We will get our retribution. We have to."
"Our duty, old friend." Drakken agreed in a solemn tone, still trying to process all of the implications of this disaster. "I'm here if you need me, Firmus."
"As am I." Piett answered, then ended the transmission. Tharcourt held his head in his hands. The DS-1. He had been on that station the day before. What if… He shook those thoughts from his head. Tarkin was dead. He didn't especially like the man, or respect his philosophy, but it had been Moff Tarkin who had started the unit Tharcourt now commanded. Now he was dead…and so was Yularen, and how many more good officers and soldiers? He remembered how big that damned vessel was. At least tens of thousands. Maybe hundreds of thousands.
It seemed impossible. No, Scarif had seemed impossible. This felt like it was against all the physical laws of the known universe. What weapon did the rebels possess that had allowed them to defeat the DS-1, an armored, moon-sized ship capable of atomizing an entire planet? Some fabled dark-matter bomb? A secret armada of thousands of destroyers? Had there been an Imperial escort fleet too? What became of them? In one brief moment, his mind constructed a horrible image of some terrifying, massive machine of war, blasting an entire fleet of star destroyers out of existence in one go. Tharcourt lit a cigarra with trembling hands, attempted to compose himself and exited his office again. Now, all eight members of Delta-7 were loitering in the room, talking amongst themselves. They all fell quiet when they saw their commander, and the look he wore on his face, cigarra hanging from his mouth.
"Men…" He began. "I…I don't know how to say this." He took a long drag from the tabac and blew it out angrily. "Rebel forces have attacked and destroyed a large, experimental orbital battlestation." The men were silent, already shocked by the news. "I and sergeant Daraay had seen the station, and let me tell you…it seemed…indestructible…invincible. But the rebels…they found a way. It's…gone."
"The DS-1, sir?" Daraay asked in a low voice. "I can't believe it. The station…it was a planet-killer."
"And now it's kriffing gone." Tharcourt said coldly. "Along with Governor Tarkin…Colonel Yularen, and I don't even know how many men and women in Imperial service." Daraay took off her helmet. Her amber eyes darted about as if she were unsure of whether or not to say what she knew.
"Sir… the number aboard was planned at…about seven-hundred-and-fifty…" She swallowed hard. "Thousand."
"Nononono…" Lago exclaimed, jerking his helmet off and dropping onto a bench, rubbing his forehead. "This idn't happening sir…is it?" The trooper looked in shock from the force of the revelation. "How did they do this? How?!"
"We gotta him 'em sir." Coleth stated. "They're bugs…nothing but karking wasps! We have to go kriffin' smash 'em into dust! Kill every last one of those damn bugs!"
"Easy…trooper." Tharcourt cautioned. Mets placed a sympathetic hand on his fellow scout-trooper's shoulder, and the man exhaled sharply and seemed to droop in defeat. The commander looked around the room at his team. Some seemed angry. Others in shock. All were notably affected by this calamity.
"We're headed to the place it happened…right now." Tharcourt instructed. "I don't know what will happen when we get there. I don't know much more than what I've told you. I don't even know who will give us orders now. I suppose we'll find out soon. We stay ready." He looked at Lago, who was still sitting on the bench, his hands visibly shaking. The commander walked over and sat next to him. "I know, Lago. I can't believe it either…"
"All those men…" The stormtrooper muttered. "That's…that's more than what live on Tatooine…"
"I know, son." Tharcourt said. "This isn't going to be easy to move past…but we have to do our duty. Take a few and get it together. The Empire is still in the fight, and so are we. When we get there, we'll get our reckoning." He looked up at the other members of the unit. "Oh, I personally plan on making sure those rebel scum learn the darker meaning of the word equity." There were nods of agreement and yes sir's throughout the room. The comms set pinged, and Tharcourt rushed to the small pad recessed into the wall by the door.
"Tharcourt." He said curtly.
"Commander Tharcourt." It was Piett again. And he sounded serious. Bad news. "Report to the bridge at once. You have a top-priority call."
"On my way." Drakken stated. "Standby." He ordered to his unit, and disappeared out the hatch.
As soon as he had entered the bridge, which was bustling with activity, Piett approached and motioned to him to follow. Tharcourt was quickly taken to a large screen. As soon as Piett had dialed in something on the adjoining terminal, the intimidating image of Lord Vader appeared. The black-clad figure turned and Tharcourt could swear that he felt something akin to a pressure surround him.
"Commander Drakken Tharcourt, Imperial Special Forces, sir." He stated dutifully. Lord Vader breathed mechanically a couple times.
"Commander. You and your team were under the direct supervision of Governor Tarkin." The masked and helmeted figure spoke.
"Yes, Lord Vader."
"No longer, commander. Tarkin is dead. I have assumed direct control of all special forces units. You now report to me." The order was so vague and yet so ominous. Nobody knew who Vader was, or what exactly his rank (if any) was in the Imperial government. Still, nobody…not even someone as bold as Tharcourt was willing to question it.
"I understand sir." The commander breathed. "My team is at your disposal. We are awaiting orders."
"Good, commander. When you arrive at Yavin-4, I want your unit to take part in an attack on the rebel base there. They have likely fled after destroying the death star, but there may be rebels and information inside the base. You will be under the command of General Veers. Do not fail me…commander." Just as he was about to reply that he would not, the transmission cut off, leaving Tharcourt standing there, staring at a black screen, feeling strangely fragile.
"He is livid, Drakken." Piett stated, coming up alongside Tharcourt. "He was there when the Death Star was destroyed. His TIE fighter was blown into space, and he was only rescued an hour ago."
This story has taken a crazy turn in the last couple of chapters now, hasn't it? Then again, you all no doubt saw this part coming. But questions remain. What will the battle of Yavin hold for our intrepid anti-heroes? What will happen to the team now that Vader is in charge of Delta-7? And how will Drakken manage to save Freya from the clutches of the foul Captain Raliss? And will I ever stop doing this Yularen, Clone Wars narration? Join us next time to find out! Until tomorrow my loyal reader, Cheerio! -Drake