I am back with another chapter, and I'm certain some of you are cursing my very name for taking so long in doing so. I've been distracted by work, and haven't had as much time to devote to this endeavor as I would like. That said, please enjoy the latest installment, submitted for your aprroval.
The corridor was mostly empty as he walked toward the bridge of the ISD Accuser. If anything, it only gave Tharcourt more opportunity to think about the events of the last few days. It seemed like everything had changed. No, that wasn't exactly true. Everything was always changing. In the last couple of weeks though, things had seemingly changed in a dark way. Scarif, the DS-1…Tarkin's death. That alone would have been enough to shake the foundations that Tharcourt had built his professional life upon. Now, he had been placed under the command of a brutal sorcerer, an obviously evil and powerful warlord who had untold magical abilities and acted directly at the will of Emperor Palpatine.
His new mission profile; to hunt down and exterminate any and all rebels they could find, all with the end goal of capturing alive one man…it was straining his belief in the system he had pledged himself to. Using the resources of an entire battle group to find the single pilot who had destroyed the Death Star, that seemed like a waste. He knew though that to defy or even remotely question Vader meant one thing…death. So, he had to follow orders, no matter how irrational they may be in this case. Finding the name and whereabouts of this rebel pilot fellow was now the Imperial government's number one priority at the moment, and Delta-7 along with every other unit and squadron Lord Vader had taken control of was tasked with tearing the galaxy apart looking for him.
And then there was today. Tharcourt had assassinated a well-connected Imperial officer, and it seemed that because of Vader's apathy, there would be no inquest at all. It still troubled him, not because he was afraid of being implicated in her death and that of Drier, but because he had been forced to cross the boundary of soldier and become a killer in order to save another officer. Even if Freya hadn't been involved in the matter, Raliss was a symptom of everything wrong with the Empire, and the only way to remove her would have still been her death. But Freya had been mixed up in the whole thing, and it had been Tharcourt who had to expunge the Captain. He had to become part of the terrible system just to fix a small part of it. To break the law to uphold the order.
He came to the hatch leading to the bridge and sighed. Tharcourt pressed the blue button on the console beside the door and it slid open. He walked onto the bridge of the massive destroyer he called home, and gave a slight nod to a crewman who looked up at him curiously from his pit, obviously not recognizing the rough-looking officer. The crewman nodded back and turned his attention back to his console. Drakken approached Piett, who stood staring out into the space in front of the vessel, his arms folded behind him. Firmus turned and a look of stern acceptance crossed his face.
"Drakken." Piett greeted. "I take it your mission on Endor was…successful."
"Yes." Tharcourt muttered. "It's done, Firmus. You um…you may need a new interrogator." Piett took a deep breath and he closed his eyes for a moment.
"You know Drakken…" The captain spoke in a low voice. "…for the first time in our lives…I'm sort of afraid of you." Tharcourt returned a slow, sad nod.
"For the first time in mine…I'm afraid of myself." He admitted. He walked out into the hall with Piett close behind. Alone with his friend in the corridor, Drakken fell back against the wall. "Dirty…awful damned business, Firmus…" Piett nodded solemnly.
"You were always a man of conscience, Drakken." He said, placing a hand on the taller man's shoulder. "At least it's over, eh?"
"Yes…well, not quite." Tharcourt said. "The ensign assigned to Captain Raliss…Ensign Freya Thorne…"
"I assume you would like her transferred to your command." Piett offered.
"Yeah."
"Well, seeing as her commanding officer has been…ahem…killed in action…I don't see why I can't do you yet another favor, hm?" He gave an amused smile. He saw Drakken's deadpan expression and scoffed. "Only a joke, Drakken. I'm placing her with you. You'll have to see to the paperwork of getting her on your team...but I will authorize it." His expression grew somber again. "I do hope she was worth it, my friend."
"She is." Tharcourt answered. He watched a pair of black-clad deck officers walk past. "She's one of the good ones. Like us…or like we used to be."
"Never seen you so gloomy." Piett said. He sighed. "It's been a trying time lately. One misses how it used to be not so long ago, hm?"
"Yeah."
Well…hopefully, we'll find this damned rebel Lord Vader wants, and then we can go back to the regularly scheduled program." Firmus commented. "I can get back to the normal routine of commanding a ship of war, and you can go back to fighting insurgents and pirates. Just like old times, perhaps."
"Maybe." Drakken said distantly. "You'd best get back to your duties, old friend."
"And you." Piett nodded. "I will find that ship. Oh, and I'm sending orders for Ensign Thorne to report to you immediately."
"Thank you, Firmus." Tharcourt stated. "This means a great deal to me. And to the ensign."
"I know." Piett replied. "That is why I'm doing it." With that, Captain Piett turned and reentered the bridge.
Drakken walked back to the Delta-7 area, still conflicted about how he was feeling at the moment. Part of him was genuinely happy that the worst was seemingly over, and that Freya would likely be joining the team. The events of the last few days still troubled him, and he planned on putting Freya's application through, and taking a couple days off. Not leave, Drakken would still be hard-pressed to do something like that, but maybe a couple days of onboard R&R were in order. He made it to the hatch of the team's little onboard compound and stopped. There was strange instrumental music coming from somewhere. He opened the door to be met with some of the unit members along with Freya in the commons room, and a song playing from somewhere in the room as the singer began.
There are some nights I hold on to every note I ever wrote
Some nights, I say "fuck it all" and stare at the calendar
Waiting for catastrophes, imagining they'd scare me
Into changing whatever it is I am changing into...
And you have every right to be scared
It had to be Gallen who had put on the music. Normally, he would have groaned at the sniper piping his melodies into the team area, or made him turn it off. This tune already seemed painfully appropriate to what he was feeling, and he couldn't help but wonder if Gallen knew this, or if the marksman or even the rest of the team weren't going through a similar crisis of conscience. Freya stood and ran to Drakken. She took hold of his arms with a mixture of happiness and sadness on her face.
"Drakken! I jus' got transferred to ye…at least as yer orderly." She said emotionally. "I can't hardly believe it…"
"I know." He said with a bittersweet smile. "I'm putting your application in, Freya. You'll likely be on the team by tomorrow morning."
"Congratulations, ma'am." Felian said openly. "I look forward to serving under you."
"Knew you'd be joining the team, ma'am." Lago beamed. Daraay stepped forward.
"I think you'll fit in here just fine, ma'am." The death trooper stated with a small smile. Gallen shot Freya a grin and a sloppy salute from the bench he was reclining on.
"Thanks…all of ye." Thorne said warmly. She looked back at Drakken, and noticed his expression. "What? What is it?" Tharcourt just smiled faintly. Thorne wrapped her arms around him.
And you, why you wanna stay?
Oh my God! Have you listened to me lately?
Lately, I've been going crazy...
And you, why you wanna stay?
"It's been a strange couple of months, hasn't it?" Drakken commented. Freya broke the embrace and scoffed.
"Yes…it certainly 'as." She answered. "Think things will be better now? I mean…now that we both 'ave one less thing t' worry about." She shook her head. "Ne'er mind. I jus' wanna say…thank you."
"I promised, didn't I?" Drakken said sincerely. "And you're here now. Will things be better? There's still a war on. Hell…I guess we'll just have to see."
There are some nights I wait for someone to save us
But I never look inward, try not to look upward
And some nights I pray a sign is gonna come to me
But usually, I'm just trying to get some sleep...
Sooooooome Niiighhhhhhts
Drakken and Freya stepped into his office and he shut the door. With the emotional melody over, Gallen put on some song that started out with someone walking around an old empty house. Drakken sat at his desk and took out a datapad. In a few moments, he had transferred Thorne's application to Imperial Special Forces Command, tagged 'Urgent', and with a postscript which read:
Note; I was preparing to begin work on Ensign F. Thorne's transfer from Interrogation to Delta-7 as soon as possible. Her commanding officer was killed in combat during operations to recover escaped prisoners recently. She has been transferred to my office to act as orderly by Captain Firmus Piett. Please expedite her assignment to this post. We are one man down due to a KIA, and due to the increasing scope of our duties, desperately need Thorne as a replacement.
"It's done." Commander Tharcourt said. "Now we just wait for a reply."
"So, what'll I be doin' here? I mean, I'll be goin' on proper missions with you, right?" Freya inquired. Drakken realized that because of Raliss, this poor girl had no idea how to be a real ensign.
"I mean…you want to?" Tharcourt returned.
"Of course…ye know I do."
"Then yes. As my ensign, it's your duty to help handle some of the record keeping and communications here and in the field. When I'm not in the office, you're technically in charge, and you supervise guard shifts, details…eh, that sort of thing." Thorne nodded in understanding. "In combat, you'll be with me, and help relay orders and act like an aid de camp. You'll be expected to fight of course, but you won't be able to lead troopers in combat until you get promoted unless there's an emergency. Other than that, you're basically at large." She chuckled.
"So that's what I was supposed to be doin' all this time."
"Yep."
"Nice to be this far in and jes now a learning me job." She commented.
"Given what you've been doing, think of this as a decrease in duties and hardship for the same amount of pay. Oh...and that…"
"What?"
"You'll be getting combat pay instead of garrison pay, so expect an extra hundred credits a pay-cycle." He explained. Freya placed her arms on his desk and rested her chin on them.
"I won't be complainin' none about that either." She sighed.
"Well, I do have to ask that you keep the hugging and the name business strictly off-the-clock, alright?" He said, getting to the cons of her new position. "I know we're friends, but we have to comport ourselves like officers at least most of the time." Freya smiled and straightened her posture in her chair. She snapped a salute.
"Yes sir." She said dutifully. "I'll behave meself." She raised an eyebrow. "Now…that's just on the clock, right?"
"Well…I mean technically yes…" Drakken stumbled. He laughed and shook his head. "Stars, Freya." She shrugged.
"Well, I can't bloody 'elp it yer so damned huggable, commander." She shot back. He gave her an incredulous smirk and she giggled. "But yes…I'll be watchin' the huggin' an' name stoof on the clock." She added in a serious tone. He nodded and she smiled warmly. He found himself gazing into her green eyes.
She was such a sweet and funny young woman, and he loved having her as a friend. He felt more now though, and he didn't like it. Not that he could help it. Freya was amazing. Her strength and resilience through everything that had happened, her dedication to someone she considered a friend. She fought like a beast, and was still the kindest person he had ever met. She was beautiful. As Drakken's eyes were fixed on her, he took it all in; porcelain skin, the adorable freckles scattered across her cheeks and nose like stars in a sky…those captivating eyes, like two sparkling emeralds; the way she wore that black eyeliner and gave that playful narrow-eyed look.
She was a beautiful, captivating young woman, and something in him wanted to hold her. He wanted to hold her close and protect her. He wanted to kiss her deeply and treat her like the incredible and astounding woman she was. He looked into her eyes, and her smile faded a bit as she looked back into his in matching silence. The moment between them only lasted a few seconds, but seemed to go on for hours. Drakken finally shook himself from his thoughts.
"Oh…um…" He stammered and cleared his throat, trying desperately to clear his mind of those unwanted and highly unprofessional thoughts about romancing his friend and new ensign. "Sleeping arrangements." He stated.
"Oh…yes…" She muttered, her mind switching off from thoughts of her friend and commanding officer holding her in a loving embrace on some far-off battlefield. "What about them?"
"Well, we need to find you a spot here. We have a bunkroom for the enlisted men with six bunks. With a couple of troopers on watch at any given time, they mainly hot-rack the bunks. There's an officer's quarters here, but I never really thought there would be another CO in the unit, so there's only one bed in the room."
"I doont mind sharin' a room with th' troopers now." Freya stated. "If ye don't mind, that is."
"I wouldn't…save for regs." Tharcourt answered. "Against the rules…officers and enlisted have to be billeted separately, even in the field…supposedly." He rolled his eyes. "I'll tell you what, I'll give you my bed at night, and I'll sleep in here. At least until we get you a room, or have my quarters divided into two units." He noticed Freya giving him a sour look. "What?"
"Drakken Tharcourt." She stated harshly. He sighed, knowing at this point that when she used his full name, a scolding usually followed. "Ye gonnae no' dae that! Ye've already put yerself oot fer me arse enough already! If ye think I'm gonna nick yer bed an' have ye a' sleepin on a cot, yer aff yer heid." She huffed. "I'll take th' office an' a cot till we get new arrangements sorted out."
"Alright." He agreed. "As long as it doesn't bother you." He thought for a moment. "I suppose you'll want to pack your belongings and move them down here."
"Aye. I should do that." She said, her expression becoming a bit somber, as if she were in deep thought. "It's going t' be a bit strange…goin' back there after…all a' this. Never mind. Jus' me bein' silly."
"I can go with you." Drakken offered softly. "If you'd like. I'll help you pack." She gave a short smile.
"Yeah…yeah, I'd welcome that, Drakken." She answered. "Yer way to kind t' me. Really. I feel like I'm being a handful."
"No, not at all, Freya." Drakken countered. "I mean…what are friends for, right?" She gave another small smile.
"I'll pull me own." She said. "Ye nae worry about that, ye hear me? I owe it to ye, Drakken, and I'll do well by ye."
"I know you will." Tharcourt returned sincerely. "I don't doubt you." He stood and stretched his back. "Well, let's go get your kit and bring it to your new quarters, eh?"
They entered Freya's small room, and she drew her large bag from the drawer underneath the bunk. She began gently placing in small objects of obvious personal value that she had sitting about the room. Tharcourt sat a small duffel bag he had brought onto her bunk and looked to his left. On the bedside table were six pair of black leather gloves. Two looked expensive, no doubt some soft, exotic leather. One of them had an odd but attractive chain/knot motif embossed around their wrist. He remembered Veruna's comment about Thorne loving gloves, and reminded himself to buy a pair for her tomorrow. He almost chuckled. What an odd thing for someone to collect. He'd heard of people being aficionados of many things, but never fine handwear.
"You um…you sure have quite the collection of gloves…" Drakken commented, looking at the orderly phalanx of leather gloves sitting in review on her small side table.
"Oh! Yes…" Freya immediately shot, and scooped up the gloves quickly. He saw her cheeks turn a little pink. "I um…I ne'er saw a pair until I left my home world. I think they're um…nice." She let out a small nervous giggle, and placed them in the bag. "Can ye pack me spare uniforms while I gather up all me little trinkets? I have a lot of little tidbits I don't wanna pester you with." She asked.
"Yes, I suppose." Tharcourt answered, a little puzzled. Nonetheless, he went to the small closet area built into the bulkhead, and drew out two uniforms and a spare grey pleated skirt. He noted that both of the uniforms were standard issue. He carried the garments to the larger bag, and folded them neatly inside. He sat on the bunk, leisurely making sure everything was stowed well.
"So…I've been meaning to ask." He began as they continued to pack the rest of Freya's belongings into the two bags. "What is the significance of your uniform?" She looked up from her bag. "The skirt and the sandals and whatnot…" He smiled. "Funny…I sort of realized that I don't know that much about you." She smiled warmly, and sat on the bed next to him. "I mean…I would really like to."
"A'right." She said softly. "First off, it's not a skirt, Drakken. It's called a feileadh beag."
"Fella…beg." Tharcourt tried out the strange word. Freya giggled.
"Close enough. It kind a' means like…small wrap. It's what we all wear on Breoh'Lar, an' have since…I dunno, time immemor'l or somethin'."
"Even the men wear them?" Drakken asked incredulously, looking at Freya's short little skirt. He felt himself blush, realizing that he was staring at her lower thighs.
"Well… th' menfolk wear theirs longer. All the way to the knees." She explained. "Women can too, or even longer. I'm still a young-un, so I get to wear mine shorter. At least it don't get in the way."
"I…I would say it doesn't…" Drakken muttered.
"And um…oh yeah, the feileadh is made int th' colors or pattern of the clan or family we're part of, and show's who we're loyal ta." Drakken looked again at her garment, and felt a tinge of sadness.
"You swore your loyalty to the Empire." He said. "That's why yours is grey now, right?"
"Yeah…" She muttered lowly. "They said my highest allegiance was to the Emperor. E'en over me own clan. I can wear the feileadh, but only in this color now." She smiled unenthusiastically. "Nice of 'em to at least gimme that much, I guess."
"Still, it's a unique tradition." He stated. "And I'm glad they let you keep it." He smiled, and decided to keep the conversation light. "And the um…boots…things?" He queried, motioning down at her toeless and heelless knee-high boots. She gave a small laugh.
"Aye me boots…these are made on me planet." She said, raising up her right leg and wiggling her toes. "All our footwear is pretty open. These boots be our combat ones. Me others are fer day-to-day. An' many a' time, we don't wear shoes at all."
"You just run around your planet barefoot?" Tharcourt asked curiously.
"Oh, aye. An' sooma the workin' men don't bother with shirts either." She grinned. "What's the point when th' weather's nice."
"I suppose…" He ventured. "But I can't see myself wearing a…feller bag and going about barefooted. Too used to my boots, I guess." She looked a bit slighted. "I mean, your culture is intriguing." He said candidly. "And I can't say that you look bad at all in your traditional clothing." She had a slight look of shock for a moment, and blushed.
"Thanks, Drakken." She said in a slightly nervous whisper. His compliment was unexpected, and she couldn't believe he had said that. Regardless of whether or not it had been a slip of his tongue, he at least found her somewhat attractive. "I really appreciate that."
"Oh…yes…you're uh…you're welcome." He said, realizing his mistake. He knew the comment was unprofessional, but he actually didn't feel bad for making it. She was smiling happily, a warm pink to her cheeks. Did that one little compliment make her feel that joyful? Maybe it wasn't that out of line for him to tell her that she looked nice. They were friends after all.
"Not many people's told me they like me garb since I joined." She admitted. "Don't think I've e'er had someone tell me I look good or that I'm pretty. Not in a couple a' years. Ye really think I am, Drakken?" He felt a little choked up. It was like Freya had just handed him a concussion mine with a movement trigger, and now he was stuck holding it as still as possible. Of course he thought she was pretty. Deep down, he thought that Freya was beautiful in every conceivable way. The idea of telling her terrified him for some reason, but she had just outright asked him a question like that, and he knew he had to answer.
"I…" He stammered, and cleared his throat. "Yes…I actually think you're very pretty…" She saw the bridge of his nose and the tops of his cheeks redden a little, and he looked away, a couple of nervous smiles flicking on his lips.
She felt her breath catch in her throat. So simple a statement, and she could tell that it took all of his nerve to get it out, but there it was. All of the stolen glances, the immature little daydreams, all the while she had convinced herself that he didn't notice her like that. He would never possibly entertain thoughts of her the way she did of him. And now…something was beginning to make sense. The way he had acted when she had fixed his collar that day, the way he always tried to make her smile. It occurred to her how complicated this was going to make things for both of them now that they were working together. At least that was her only major stressor now. That thought made her smile. Tharcourt was still looking down, fidgeting with his cap in his hands.
"Hey..." She said softly. "What is it?"
"Nothing…just…" He let out a soft sigh. "Honestly? Kinda hard…saying things like that, I guess." He felt her put a hand on his right arm and squeeze gently.
"Well…" She ventured. "If it's any cons'lation, I maybe…sort a'…" He turned his head slowly toward her and lightly shook his head in a confused way. Her lip trembled a bit. "I think you're…a really good-looking guy…Drakken."
"Oh." He returned, unsure of what else to say. He couldn't help but smile a little. "Thank you, Freya."
"Aye, well I'm sure many a' girl's said that to ye."
"Eh. Just one I can think of…at least in the past ten years." He confessed. "I dunno. Maybe I just don't pay attention to that kind of thing." She gave him a deadpan look.
"Feck, Drakken." She quipped. "Man like you…ye oughtta be married by now."
"Well…I dunno." He breathed. "Like I said before…just never had the time to pursue, you know?" He nudged her playfully. "What about you? Doesn't my lovely ensign have a line of suitors lined up across a system?" She giggled lightheartedly.
"Nahhh." She waved. "I mean, I had one or two lads courtin' me fer a while back hame. Wasn't that into 'em, ye know? That an' I had me big dreams a' being some spacefarin' ship's officer. I figure'd me 'air'd reach the ground afore I got meself merriet." He thought about that for a moment.
"So…your long hair means you're not yet married or taken." Tharcourt deduced.
"Aye. We lassies grow it out till we get hitched…or sometimes jes' find a good guy ta' shack oop with like some a' we young un's do these days. It's more of a wee token symbol than a stringent ol' ritual nowadays. The whole thing is that it's like sayin' we're free and single and that…we still got our purity…" She said the last part in a lower voice and trailed off. It felt a little personal to be admitting such a thing, especially when she comprehended that in the excitement of teaching Drakken about her customs, she had scooted uncomfortably close to him. His face was now only a few inches from hers. He was looking at her intently, and she could tell his breathing had slightly increased.
Indeed, Drakken had been listening to her describe the significance of her long, red hair and had been a little dumbstruck when she had ventured so far as to disclose her chastity that openly. He was a bit taken aback that she didn't have a lot of guys pursuing her, and that she herself was so selective with men she liked. It was obvious to him now that she liked him, certainly at least a little more than just as a friend. The feelings he had been trying to repress all this time had actually been two-sided. Instead of coming as a relief, it only made him feel more awkward about the whole thing. He now realized how close she was to him on the bunk, and that his heart was pounding a little faster than normal.
He tried to look away, but only managed to get as far as her knees before trailing his glance up her long, athletic legs, to her large bosom, her slender neck and up…her slightly prominent chin, her milky white skin and high cheekbones, a cute nose, all sprinkled with tiny brown dots. Then he met her eyes. They stared into his, unabashedly revealing the same thing he was feeling at the moment. Starstruck…gobsmacked. No word seemed to come close to how he was feeling at the moment.
"Drakken…" She said in a whisper. She had butterflies in her stomach. Being this close to him, the way he was looking at her…it seemed so surreal and bewitching. Drakken had no idea what to do. Every fiber of his being told him to stop, to compose himself, but something in him wanted to rebel, to see for sure if they were just friends, or more. She looked nervous, and he brushed a little of her tangle of red-orange hair over her left ear with two fingers. She seemed to shudder a little, but her eyes never left his.
"Freya…you…you have such a pretty name." He said softly. "I've never heard of anyone named Freya before." She smiled meekly.
"It means…" She began, her voice wavered a little. "It means the goddess of war…and love."
"Stars…if that's not perfect." He whispered back. Somehow, they had drawn closer. He could feel her breath on his lips. It felt wrong…unprofessional. She wasn't stopping it, and he didn't want to anymore. He felt his lips touch hers. Freya's opened her mouth slightly, and they both pressed their lips together in a slow, gentle kiss. She put her arms around Drakken and drew him close. He embraced her in return, wanting nothing more than to stay like this forever; holding this sweet but amazing woman, and protecting her with everything he had. She felt as though she were about to melt. This man who had saved her, who she admired and revered was now doing what she had only dreamed of in the well-penned plays of her imagination. She wanted to run away with him, to have all sorts of adventures with Drakken. Then the reality hit, as did the gravity of what they were doing. Apparently, it all hit Tharcourt as well. They pulled away from each other.
"Wha…what are we doin', Drakken?" She panted.
"I…I don't know." He muttered. "Maybe…" They let go of one another and his eyes darted to and fro. "Maybe this isn't a good idea."
"Yeah…" She breathed disappointedly. "Too kriffin' right…I mean…"
"We're Imperial officers." He said uncertainly.
"An' we 'ave t' work together afterall…"
"There's rules against this sort of thing…" Tharcourt mused out loud, rubbing his forehead.
"It…couldn't work out anyway." She stated.
"No…no it…couldn't." Drakken agreed with a hint of sadness. "We should uh…we should try and put this behind us."
"Oh, aye." Freya returned with gusto. "Try an' forget this e'er happened…t'was just us bein' silly."
"Yes. That's what it was." Tharcourt said, immediately taking to the excuse. "Now, let's get you moved into your new offices, eh?
Oh...well...ahem...that was certainly a thing that happened, eh? I guess they aren't hooking up then...at least that's what it looks like, and here most of you thought they'd be an item.
I don't own the song in this chapter, by the way. It was written by FUN, or whoever writes their music at least. I just thought it was fitting for the scene, and I have a thing for sneaking in songs and song references, along with easter eggs, in case you lot haven't caught some of them yet.
I'll try to have the next chapter up in a few days, unless I'm completely inundated with work. I have a show coming up on the 8th, so I'll try to get a chapter or two up before then. Until next time my loyal readers, as always, leave me your questions and comments. As some of you may know, I enjoy hearing from and conversing with my readers. So keep it dialed in right here for more of this riveting tale. Cheerio!