The hours of the late evening looms over the urban sprawl of the planet Coruscant. Normally the weather is calm and quiet, thanks to the planet's weather-controlled stations scattered throughout. However tonight, this isn't the case. A power surge has knocked out several of the stations. This absence of control has created several cells of rainstorms that has covered endless miles of the core world.
Pvt. Len Towani, through his helmet, looks up at the heavy rain as it comes down. He's amazed at how the towering skyscrapers seem to disappear into the clouds. It's as almost like the clouds are doing their best to lessen the sheer height of these buildings. Just then the private is jolted by a sudden boom of someone's voice coming through his helmet's transmitter.
"GF-0319, report on your status. You're five minutes late…again!".
"Thi-this is GF-0319, Sector Three is all clear," replies the private. Although his face winces, no one can see it. Unfortunately for Pvt. Towani, he knows what will happen next.
"You better get your buckethead out of your behind GF-0319, or the next time you'll wear your stormtrooper gear will be at your funeral!" With that, the communication ends. The private mentally beats himself up a little. He knows better; not letting things distract him from his tasks. What the private also doesn't realize is that someone is right behind him.
"Rough night, huh?" The voice startles Pvt. Towani as he spins around to see who posed that question. His eyes widen when he sees it's another stormtrooper who's wearing a white pauldron.
"S-Sergeant Malkon!" The private tries to formulate a sentence but gets increasingly tongue-tied when Sgt. Malkon stops him with the raise of his hand.
"No need to explain. I was you once. Fresh out of basic training, placed on a world completely foreign to your own. How does it feel guarding our Emperor?" Pvt. Towani takes a quick look over the Sergeant's shoulder at the Imperial Palace: home of Emperor Palpatine. He makes a remark about how the palace is a lot bigger "in person," when a thin line of blue lightning streaks across the Coruscant sky. Sgt. Malkon easily sees the flinch the private makes due to the accompanying loud boom of thunder.
"Not into storms?" The private quickly shakes his head as the rainfall gets heavier, while the winds gusts get a bit stronger. As the two stormtroopers deal with the present weather, Sgt. Malkon notices Pvt. Towani looking over the sergeant's shoulder again. "Is there something about the palace you would like to ask me private?" The private nods his head, takes his hand and points to the sky.
"You think he's sound asleep with all of this going on, sir?"
Sgt. Malkon looks at the private and slightly shakes his head in amusement. As the two stormtroopers continue to talk, another round of lightning streaks over the sky followed by the boom of thunder. This bad weather has, understandably, prevented some of the Coruscant populous from getting some sleep. This cannot be said for one Emperor Palpatine, who's sound asleep in his bed chamber. Or at least he was…
The emperor begins to toss and turn a little when something starts to echo in his mind. He feels the tremor in the Force. It's distant, almost hidden. Palpatine's pale decrepit hands slowly tighten on the bedsheet as the echo slowly gets louder in his mind. 'What is this?' He wonders. The sounds are unfamiliar to be kind. As his movements on the bed become more pronounced, objects like sculptures, vases, paintings begin to shake in his room. The more he tosses about, the more they shake. The faint sounds of screaming are now a part of the echo. Everything comes to a crescendo when Palpatine pops upright from his bed, fully awake, and objects come crashing down onto the floor. He takes in a few deep breaths to get his heartbeat backdown to normal. As he slowly wipes the sweat off his forehead, the bed chamber door opens and a servant droid rolls in.
"My Lord, is everything al-…my word, what happened?" As the droid takes in the mess scattered about, a couple of the Emperor's Royal Guard quickly enter. However, with the raise of Palpatine's hand, the guards don't come any closer and the droid doesn't say anything else.
"Guards, leave me." He then looks over at the droid. "Come back with some help in one hour to clean this mess." The droid bows its head and rolls out of the room, slowly closing the door behind it.
The pale, disfigured leader of the Galactic Empire looks about the mess that litters his room: broken pieces of expensive art, vases. A slight snarl appears on one side of his mouth. It's not because of the destroyed possessions, he could care less. There's always someone amongst Coruscant's elite that will gladly donate their things because it would be viewed as giving back to their Empire…their Emperor. It's because this incident has accomplished what the Jedi Order, his political rivals in the Senate couldn't do: make him feel off-centered.
It doesn't take him long to change clothes and exit his bedroom. The stormy weather continues on outside as Palpatine, walking cane in hand, slowly makes his way to his throne room. As he's followed by four of his Imperial Guard, his mind begins to work out what just happened. His focus is so locked in that everything around him goes silent. Even the occasional enjoyment of walking through the building that once belonged to the destroyed Jedi Order, thanks to his Order 66, has lost that sweet flavor. Palpatine makes it to the throne room. Slowly makes it up the steps and sits down in his chair. The powerful Sith lord turns his chair around, faces the big circular window; he doesn't pay any attention to what's happening outside. Instead he closes his eyes and through the dark side of the Force, he reaches out. As he's done many times in the past, he lets the dark side wash over him. Some time passes by when Palpatine again hears that echo and all that came with it.
"Hmmm…what is it?" says Palpatine quietly. Whatever the Emperor has honed in on is foreign but also, it's pure. He opens his eyes as a flash of lightning illuminates the sky. Without looking, he takes his hand and presses a button on the chair's console.
"Yes, my lord?"
"Get me Rear Adm. Sobal immediately."
"Understood, my lord." Palpatine places his hands together and slightly touches his mouth: his curiosity is piqued. He's not sure of what he has come across, but he wants to find it.
The Star Destroyer Marauder just entered hyperspace, leaving another Outer-Rim planet where the inhabitants needed an "Imperial reminding" of the consequences of misbehaving. As things go back to some sort of normalcy, one sergeant is not having a great day.
The sergeant comes out of the Comms room at a fast pace. She's so livid that she doesn't even feel the droid that she knocked down to the ground as she walks by. She makes it down to the mess hall what seems to be in a couple seconds. She grabs a tray of food, makes a beeline to an empty table and slams her tray on it. As she angrily shoves food in her mouth, someone else quietly sits beside her with a meal tray.
"Sooo…talk with the parents go well?"
The sergeant swallows down another bite of food. "All they did was talk wonderfully about him…that bastard." She takes in another spoonful of food into her mouth and swallows hard, barely chewing it first. "Not a 'hey, you got promoted!', or 'where are you now?' They just talked about my brother like he just walked on water, not the money-stealing spice-head that he is. I guess it would be too much of them to admit that, huh?"
The other person just watches as she shoves in spoonful after spoonful of food in her mouth that normally she wouldn't touch…except right now. The person would love to tell her to just forget about her family and move on with her life, but he knows better.
"Well once you're done eating whatever that is, you can join me at the shooting gallery and squeeze off a few rounds." He can see the radiating tension coming off the sergeant begin to dissipate when a voice crackles through the intercom: someone requires their presence…immediately. 'Well, so much for target practice,' the other person thinks. The two of them leave their trays behind without hesitation.
It doesn't take them long to be standing in front of a door, dressed in their military uniform. The two of them quickly glance at each other, wondering why they were called. The sergeant reaches out and knocks on the door twice.
A voice, without one drop of emotion, comes through the door. "Come in."
Both soldiers enter, as soon as the door slides closed behind them, they quickly pop a salute to Capt. Lucin Yonpee: their company commander.
"Sergeants Olyone and Dzukya reporting as ordered, sir," she says. Both sergeants wait for a response but all they get is silence for a few seconds. Then the slight tapping sound slowly emerges. Olyone takes a look down and sees Capt. Yonpee with a datapad in both hands: their personnel information files. He's looking at one while using the other to make that slow tapping sound. All of a sudden, the tapping just stops.
"The two of you are my pride…and my pain at the same time: the planet we just left and your PIFs are proof of that!" Both sergeants continue to stand there as Yonpee rambles off their faults. With Olyone, it's disobeying orders, and telling certain officers what she thinks of them - which has landed her in the brig a couple times. Dzukya is a little different: jokes too much, no desire of advancement, a little drinking on duty, little dabble of spice, off-duty.
"If things were determined based solely on what was done on the battlefield you, Sgt. Olyone, would be an Imperial officer in charge of a battalion…" Yonpee's eyes quickly dart over to Sgt. Dzukya, "…and you would be a senior NCO." Both sergeants watch as their Captain slowly place the datapads on the desk. He takes his hand and slowly rubs the temples of his head. What Yonpee would like is to tear into them; the two of have given him plenty of reasons…but that's not why they're standing before him.
"I received a coded communique a few minutes ago: The both of you are to report to Imperial High Command immediately, that is all I know." Yonpee also informs them that an Imperial cargo shuttle is set to rendezvous with the Marauder in 30 minutes, and they best get on it.
Olyone does her best and keeps the disdain from appearing on her face while Dzukya remains unfazed. The Captain dismisses the two of them. The two sergeants make an about-face, heading towards the door. Just then Yonpee speaks again, stopping them in their tracks.
"Wait," he says. They partially turn to look at him. "Whatever High Command requires you to do - come back alive…and in one piece."
"Yes, Sir!" is the reply that comes from both sergeants. Yonpee watches as two of his best leave and he wonders…will they follow his order?
Traveling in an Imperial cargo shuttle is not the high life, but it wasn't designed for the purpose of comfort. After a few stops, the shuttle has arrived at Coruscant. As the ship descends into the planet's atmosphere, Olyone is awakened by the "gentle" nudges of Dzuyka's elbow prodding her side.
"What Diric?!" she yells. She sees Dzukya standing by the ladder, motioning her to follow him up to the shuttle's main deck. The last thing she sees is his smiling grin as he shoots up the ladder. 'He jokes too much, indeed,' she thinks as she slowly makes it over to the ladder.
With her body slowly waking up, Olyone makes it to the main deck. She's about to give Dzukya a piece of her mind for waking her up when she sees Coruscant from the shuttle's viewport. She fully awakens, taking it all in: buildings on top of buildings that seem to almost blot out the sun, sky-lanes that stretch for miles, crisscrossing over each other. The pilot looks over his shoulder and sees Olyone's face. He laughs as he looks forward.
"You should see the look on your face, Sergeant." He looks over at the co-pilot. "Hey, Lieutenant, we got ourselves a first-timer."
The co-pilot doesn't take a look, she just nods her head and smiles. "So, what brings you to the center of the known universe?" asks the pilot.
"Aside from getting out of our commander's sight? Don't have a clue. Why do you ask?" says Dzukya. The tone in Dzukya's voice diverts Olyone's gaze away from what's outside. She can tell that he's picked up on something. The two of them now look at the pilot, who shows a slight concern on his face.
"It could be nothing, but we and our fellow squadron mates have been all over the galaxy picking up troops like you two and bringing them back here to Coruscant. As for the why? Well, no one tells us lowly cargo pilots a damn thing."
The co-pilot looks over her shoulder at the two sergeants and tells them not to pay the pilot any mind, saying it's been a very long shift for the two of them.
"Yeah, you're probably right, Lieutenant…I'm getting tired," says the pilot. The shuttle reaches its destination and begins the landing process as the co-pilot speaks up.
"When the two of you are done with whatever it is, there's a place several zones away: good food, good drinks. Just tell the owner that Lieutenants Amon and Susik sent you, okay?". Amon quickly gives Olyone the coordinates.
The shuttle's landing gear bears the full weight as it touches down on the landing pad. It takes the sergeants no time to gather their gear and wait while the walk ramp lowers down on the ground. Their eyes lock in what's outside: Naval Intelligence Headquarters.
As Dzukya takes in the enormous structure, Olyone's eyes focus on a person standing a few feet away from the shuttle. She makes a quick read as the person begins to walk towards them.
'Hmm…average height at best…by the look of his babyface, probably a year or a year and a half time in service…definitely a private. Good grief, someone sent some young pup who's wet behind the ears and reeks of baby formula to meet us.' Olyone's hypothesis are confirmed when the person speaks.
"Sergeants Olyone and Dzukya? I'm Private Lenck. I'm here to escort you to headquarters." Olyone and Dzukya grab their gear and follow the young private. As the three of them get closer to the immense complex of Naval Intelligence Headquarters, Pvt. Lenck just starts talking…without any provocation.
"The two of you are wondering if I have any clue to why you're here; sorry, but I'm in the dark, just like you two. Three days ago, I was roasting a few rebels with my flamethrower on some backwater planet. Now I'm here on Coruscant." Both sergeants aren't shocked by what the private said, but they don't like the feeling of the unknown. As they reach the entrance of the window-less structure, Olyone can see the look on Lenck's face.
"Something on your mind, Private?" she asks. Pvt. Lenck looks over at her and nods his head.
"I may be young but whatever we're here for, it's big. If not, why would Army personnel be sent here to Naval Intelligence?"
A little curl appears on one side of Dzukya's mouth; he likes the fact that Lenck isn't some mindless grunt. Entering the Naval Intelligence Pvt. Lenck departs, telling them he'll meet up later.
Olyone and Dzukya spend some mind-numbing time with in-processing procedures: medical and psych scans, layout of the facility and of the planet, etc. They completed everything except one last thing: a mandatory chat with a loyalty officer from the Imperial Security Bureau.
Olyone sits in the chair and quickly looks about the small room. Pale white walls without any hint of wear, just like the shiny black floor. The table that sits in front of her is plain, just like the manila-colored pitcher and cup that sits there. On the other side of the table is another chair with a large pitch-black glass behind it. The one-way glass stretches from one wall and ends at the next. She can see herself in the reflection and wonders what will be the loyalty officer's game plan. Just then, the door slides open and in walks the loyalty officer. Olyone looks over at the officer, making sure that her face reflects a veneer of nothing. 'May the interrogation begin,' she thinks.
The officer sits down and looks at the datapad. Olyone watches the officer's finger scrolling through the information, then stopping. She wonders why.
"State your full name, serial number and rank, please." The officer's tone catches the sergeant a little bit off guard: not a trace of demand, nor of arrogance.
"Jana Olyone, Serial number VK-7997, rank: Sergeant."
The officer slightly nods, then continues on. "I said your full name, Sergeant."
"That is my full name. My parents never gave me a middle name, ma'am," replies Olyone. 'What the hell does not having a middle name have to do with anything?'
The officer doesn't react at all to Olyone's answer, just continues moving forward. "But your younger brother has one…Venn, correct?"
The feeling of annoyance is beginning to fester inside of Olyone, but she keeps her veneer intact and watches as the officer slowly pours water into the cup, drinking some of it before placing the cup back on the table.
"Your parents, what do they do?"
The sergeant is trying to figure out why her family is on the forefront of this officer's mind. "Both of my parents are foreman at the Imperial Shipyards on the planet Corellia, ma'am," she answers.
A small smirk appears on the officer's face as she slightly nods her head once again. "Contributing to our Galactic Empire that continues to provide us peace and stability is something to be proud of. However, something is…bugging me, Sergeant," says the officer.
Olyone's eyes quickly look around, she's confused. "Which is what?" The loyalty officer looks over at the datapad and brings up some bits of info. She then slides the tablet over to Olyone. She watches as the sergeant picks it up, and Olyone's hands beginning to tighten slowly.
"Now those are your PIF and your Comm logs during your time in service. Now, through analysis, the average number of times enlisted personnel call their loved ones is around five to six times within the first five years of service. However, with you, that number is only…two."
Olyone tries to answer but is stopped by the officer's raised hand. The officer then talks about some disciplinary actions in the sergeant's file and brings out her theory.
"I believe that these two areas are actually connected…through your brother." The officer can see the sergeant's neutral mask begin to crack as her hands tighten more on the datapad. "Your brother is, and will always be, the favorite - and that just galls you. I wouldn't doubt that throughout your childhood you did everything to get your parents' approval and came up with nothing."
The feeling that was once annoyance has turned into a rising anger within Olyone. She tries to contain it, but the loyalty officer's probing is like a bug repeatedly stinging its target.
"So, instead of cutting your family loose, you get back at them by taking it out on the Empire to which you serve. All of this brings me another question: would you go so far as to helping the rebellion to get back at your parents?"
Olyone drops the datapad and is up out of the chair, lunging at the commander, but the officer is two steps ahead. The Loyalty Officer places her foot on the table and, with all of her strength, slams it into Olyone's exposed midsection, pinning her against the wall. The top half of the sergeant's body crashes down on the table; the air has left her body and now is replaced by a rising searing pain.
The officer doesn't let off the pressure, instead pours more of her energy into her leg. The pain flowing within Olyone increases. She on the verge of tears when she screams out:
"I…AM…LOYAL!"
The officer takes her foot off the table, then effortlessly throws the table, slamming it into the opposite wall.
Olyone crashes onto the floor. She can't move an inch, the pain still ravaging her. Just then, the door slides open and two ISB agents quickly enter.
"I'll take her to the—" The ISB agent stops speaking at the officer's raised hand.
"You will do no such thing, Lieutenant!" She then yells out for Dzukya, who gets there seemingly a second later. She orders him to take Olyone to the infirmary.
"Yes, Commander," he replies. Before he does so, the commander leans down toward Olyone. She takes the sergeant's face and brings it up so that her eyes are locked in with the Commander's.
"Sooner or later, we've all got to let go of our past," whispers the Commander, dropping Olyone's face back on the floor. Dzukya quickly walks over and slowly helps Olyone off the floor. He takes her arm and hooks it around his neck as the two of them very slowly exit the interrogation room.
The commander walks out the room and watches Olyone struggling down the hallway, with Dzukya's aid: the result of the commander's handiwork. She can tell that Olyone is doing the best she can to walk, but with every pain-filled step, her legs fail to do their job. Seeing that brings a very slight smirk on the commander's face.
The ISB lieutenant walks up behind her. "Shall we monitor her more closely, ma'am?" he asks. The Commander just stands there. She's not in a rush.
"No, Lieutenant…I'm done with her." The commander walks back into the interrogation room and orders the lieutenant to bring in, using the commander's words, the next victim.
