IX: Imperial Mercenary

Very few of the rebelling squad's ships had lasted long enough for the TIEs to switch from the deadly green blaster bolts to the disabling blue ion bolts. Only 5 ships that weren't Imperial-owned had made it into the Tyrant's hangar, in fact.

A number of technicians had greeted the Imperial pilots when they made it back; some of them trying to start conversation, some examining the fighters for any damage, and one began checking the ships belonging to the prisoners.

GM-185 had approached that one, wanting to make sure the tech got it right. "Let's see… looks like you guys brought one RZ-1 interceptor, two T-65 fighters, one BTL-A4 bomber, and one KSE-12a fighter." He blinked, just realized how old that last ship had to have been. "…A KSE-12a? You guys bagged an antique." GM nodded, his slight smirk hidden by the jet-black helmet. He turned to follow the prisoner convoy, as they were lead to interrogation.

The survivors had been lead into a pitch-black room, a stark contrast to the gleaming white of the hallways they had passed through not ten seconds earlier.

And, of course, because it was pitch black in there, the Imperials just had to shine a very bright light right in the prisoners' faces. Kol sighed. I hate these guys.

GM-185 walked in at that moment. "Well, well… according to the reports, your name is Kol Kotha. Correct?" Kol grunted. "Just as I thought. I won't bother questioning how anyone can really believe you when you say that, though; I imagine you caught enough flak for that before we came into the picture."

Kol sighed again. The Imperials seemed to know everything. "You mind telling us where we're going?"

GM turned away, took a few slow steps. He was completely relaxed, even though he had at least two of his new worst enemies sitting no less than seven feet away from him. "We're heading to the Hoth system. Word on the ship is, a probe found something on a remote planet… Hoth, ever heard of it? Course you have, that's where your base is."

Duncan stared up, surprised as hell. "What are you talking about? Is it the Alliance? We're not with them!"

GM's helmet once again hid his smirk. "Sure, you say that now… but we'll see soon enough if you've been saying that all along." Kol lightly chuckled. There's something about this guy that's really fucking weird. How many protocols does this ship break per day?

A background check had cleared it: none of them were affiliated with the Alliance. The only one who had seen any real action was Kol, though both he and GM knew he hadn't actually seen it. "Alright, the background check is clear, but…" That bastard. He had worded the sentence carefully so as to raise their hopes and almost immediately shatter them. "…You're still wanted for the stolen merchandise you've sold…"

Duncan growled. "We told you, we didn't sell it!"

GM continued. "… And on top of that, you've murdered five Imperials today. Four in your warehouse, then one kill in space." He stared at them, Kol in particular. "You're pretty good at killing, I'll give you that. Maybe you'll be able to put that to good use." He left the room; about a second later, two white-clad stormtroopers walked in and moved the squad into the holding cells.

Kol sighed. The cells were cold, poorly maintained, and the "food", if they dared call it that, was terrible.

For no apparent reason, Kol had been placed in a separate cell. Everyone else was placed in groups of four or five in the other cells. He now had two choices of activity: stare at the floor, or listen in one what his employees were saying. Within three seconds he already knew everything there was to know about that floor, so he leaned towards the bars and listened to the others.

The only other one he really knew the name of was talking. "…I really hate that guy. He thinks he can act like that because he managed to kill a few…"

Another one cut him off. "Yeah. There's something weird about that one…what's his name again?"

The very pilot they were speaking of answered. "GM-185." They all jumped. "Evening, boys, there's some more business I have with…" He turned to the cell with Kol in it. "…With who you think is Kol Kotha."

The way that sentence was worded really pissed one of them off. "Why the hell are you acting like he's someone else? He's Kol Kotha, you idiot!"

GM feigned being hurt. "Oh, your cruel words have pierced me like a vibroblade." He barely kept himself from laughing out loud right after. "Alright, Kol, you're coming with me." He opened the cell door, and was surprised when Kol didn't pull anything immediately. They left the detention area, leaving the other employees confused, and in the case of one, angry.

Kol was brought to the bridge. Perhaps they would give him some form of trial, before they inevitably found him guilty and passed their harsh judgment on him.

Something was not right, however. The judges seemed against passing any of the harsh judgments he had imagined.

He wasn't really paying attention to what they said… they hadn't asked him anything, but suddenly, "…not guilty." His head shot up. What? Of course there was a catch: "…on one condition."

He looked around, confused. "What…condition?"

"The pilot who brought you in has shown interest in your abilities as a fighter pilot. We've seen it too, so… We've decided to cut you a deal. You have two choices: join the Imperial Navy, or…"

Another Imperial, dressed in an odd armor he had never seen before slowly drew a vibroblade.

Kol sighed. Not much of a choice, is it. He smirked, as he imagined GM-185 was doing as well. "Sure thing. It probably pays better than running that old warehouse."

GM stepped forward. "One dealing with a hot inventory, no less. You heard him, sirs."

"We indeed did. GM-185, show him to his quarters, and help him prepare for battle. We've nearly reached the Hoth system."

Kol took very little time dressing in the black pilot suit. It was almost exactly the same as every other one on the ship. There was only one minor difference between each: the two-letter, three-number designation that set him apart from the thousands of other Imperial soldiers and pilots. He was given the designation KG-742. And, as luck would have it, he was placed in the same squad as GM-185.

Kol had learned the story when they had exited hyperspace. The Super Star Destroyer Executor had exited too close to Hoth. The Rebels had activated a theater shield over their base, which shattered Darth Vader's initial plan to bombard them from orbit. The Executor saw a quick change in the chain of command, courtesy of Vader, and they devised a new strategy. They would have to launch a ground assault on the Rebel base: sweep in, overwhelm the rebels, and take their base.

The Rebels had an entirely different plan. They were going to launch Mon Calamari-built transports to get their commanders off of the planet and somewhere much safer. Their plan seemed to have a fatal flaw, however; the transports were going to take a route that meant they would have to fight their way past the Tyrant, and on top of that, they would only have two T-65 X-wing fighters supporting them. This was going to be too easy.

GM was still in the process of showing Kol throughout the ship when an alert sounded. "All personnel, report to battlestations! Rebellion transport spotted at 9 o'clock!" The two pilots nodded at each other and hurried towards their hangar, more or less; Kol wasn't sure where to get there from where he was, and just followed GM.

Captain Lennox watched from the bridge. "Fools, do they really think they can get through us with just two starfighters supporting them?"

The executive officer, Lieutenant Cabbel, and many of the other crewmates nodded to themselves in agreement; not even the Rebels would be that crazy. One of them noted something at his station, though. "Uh, Captain Lennox, sir, something's coming up on sensors."

Lennox continued staring at the transport. "What is it?" He suddenly saw it; a white flash coming from the planet. It impacted with the Tyrant, and two more similar flashes followed. The lights flickered, and dimmed. "What was that?!"

The man at sensors sighed. "Planetary ion cannon, sir. We've been disabled." Lennox growled as the transport passed by them.