Big thanks to my betas, Firehawk1100 and Mauryn for looking over this chapter. I literally couldn't do it without them. If ya'll see the og draft you would pick up arms.
The Stressful
A lack of sleep wasn't foreign to Coquer. It was a commodity that was easily forsaken by soldiers and sailors alike due to their long list of duties they were burdened with. And just like the many sleep deprived men and women of the CIS, Coquer knew how to grit through it.
Torpedoes flew past the bridge and turbolasers struck forward portside, but the Alacrity deflector shields held strong. The ship shook violently, and yet, Coquer stood tall. His knees didn't buckle in the slightest from the turbulence.
"Commander, shields are at forty percent. Class Charlie fire reported in compartment 8-159-3," Lugnut reported. "Engineering reports the hyper drives are fixed and are now functional."
"Commander," a B-1 droid—Prim called out from behind a console. "The Indomitable is reporting heavy damages, sir, and is requesting to retreat back to friendly lines."
Coquer stared at the raging battlefield before him with sleep deprived eyes. Despite what it might seem from someone looking on the outside, this battle was easily his win. It was decided as soon as it began. He was no doubt facing a Jedi. Only those mystics could be as stubborn to keep fighting when outnumbered three to one and not knowing when to admit defeat.
Headstrong fools.
Coquer sighed, removing the weights that were starting to bring his eyelids down. Today marked the thirtieth time he went with only two hours of sleep.
Damn nightmares.
A chill crawled down his spine. He felt the hair on his neck stand on end. His eyes widened. Flashes of images flooded his vision.
He shook his head. Like always, the images and the sudden case of lightheadedness and chills disappeared as soon as it came. Since the Battle of Dantooine, his sixth sense had grown in frequency as well clarity, getting more vivid with each incident. The weird occurrence had become a sad, yet useful norm to him. It won him battles.
Just like this one.
"Tell the Indomitable they have permission to retreat," Coquer commanded. "Order the rest of the fleet to put power to their forward shields and charge the enemy."
"C—charge?" Reflector, the droid next to Prim, stuttered.
"Correct," Coquer affirmed, nodding. "We are going to see who really is in charge of the GAR. The Jedi, or their Admirals."
"Roger, roger," the two said in unison.
The Alacrity picked up speed, becoming the head of the spear that was about to pierce the Republic. The Venator and Acclimator-class ships unleashed hell upon them, firing everything they had at his fleet. It was expected. Just liked what his sixth sense showed him they would do.
"Get ready to bank starboard, thirty degrees," Coquer warned. "Relay the message to the rest of the fleet."
Republic' lasers pelted his ship. Shields were dropping at a drastic rate. Even so, Coquer's fleet kept with their pace.
Any second now.
"Commander, shields are at ten percent," Lugnut informed.
The Republic ships suddenly broke formation. Coquer grinned.
"All ships, bank now!" shouted Coquer.
The Alacrity jerked to the right, harrowingly missing the Republic ship. They were barely a star-fighter apart. Too close to dodge. Too close for their shields to do their job properly. "Fire starboard cannons!"
The cannons ripped through the Venator-class star-destroyer like it was paper. Its pitiful shields hardly last a second against their barrage. A chain of explosions erupted onboard the ship, and the rest of the Republic fleet, as the same maneuver they performed was simultaneously copied by the rest of his forces. Within moments almost the entire Republic fleet was destroyed, and the few survivors were being picked off at his own force's leisure.
I guess the answer was Jedi. An admiral wouldn't wait for the last second to break formation when a ship is clearly about to ram them.
Coquer started making his way to the elevator. "Report to Command about our victory. I'm going rest before my meeting with the War Council."
The elevator opened and he entered. He spared the droids of the bridge one last look. "Good job, everyone," he said with a smile. "Start repairs immediately, and report to me when it is accomplished."
White. Pure blinding white.
Then suddenly, flashes of red light pierced the white void. Crimson like blood, sparked sporadically in the empty space.
Sounds of screaming slowly came into existence. It was muffled, like the person themselves was being gagged. It continued, alongside the flashes of crimson. The screaming got louder and more muffled with each passing second.
Bit by bit, a face came out of the unknown. Its face was blurry, completely undescriptive. Their mouth open, their jaw unhinged from its sockets. They released a blood curdling shriek.
Coquer's hands flew out as he abruptly sat up, gasping for air. Droplets of sweat rolled down his forehead. His eyes, wide and frantic, surveyed every inch of his cabin. His heart was beating so fast it felt like it might just jump out of his chest at any second.
Once seeing the area was free of that haunting face, his muscles relaxed. With a deep breath, his jittering hands became still and his breathing normal. He closed his eyes and slouched forward, burying his face into his hands. A growl escaped through clenched teeth.
"Damn it," he whispered with a shaky voice.
Coquer had been having the same nightmare ever since the beating Ventress gave him on Dantooine. The bloody night terrors made no sense to the young man. At first, he thought it was post-traumatic stress since the symptoms checked off everything he had read up on the psychiatric disorder. But the nightmares had no correlation to the hard fought battle he won on the lush planet of Dantooine, the thrashing he received by the witch, or any events in fact, he experienced throughout the years.
Just a damn floating face and muffled screaming.
They sounded like they were begging for help.
Coquer sighed, wiping off the sweat from his brows. His white tee stuck to him like an extra layer of skin. He needed a shower, probably a cold one. Perhaps it could keep his mind off of his nightmares.
Coquer ripped his blanket off of his body and swung his legs to the side of his bed. He flipped a switch, turning off the red light that was used to keep his night vision intact and brought forth the normal bright white light. Groaning, he stood up, wiping away the last of the sleep from his eyes.
He shredded his drenched shirt off his body, leaving his chest bare to the slightly chilled air. He tossed the article of clothing on the bed. His feet felt heavy as he stomped over to his dresser.
There was a knock at the door. Coquer muttered a curse under his breath. He wasn't in the mood for any sort of company.
He made his way to the sole exit of his cabin and opened it. He immediately recognized the B1 battle droid in front of him. "What is it, Rust?"
Rust greeted him with a crisp salute. "Sir, here to report you are late for your meeting with the War Council."
Coquer face scrunched up in confusion. "What are you talking about?" He checked his wrist chronometer. "That isn't for another three hours."
Rust dropped its salute. "Uh, sir, three hours has passed. We're going by Raxus Secundus time, not standard, remember? We're two hours ahead."
Coquer eyes widened at the shocking revelation. How could he forget such an important fact? He checked his chronometer once more. He was two hours late.
"Karablast," he grumbled.
At least this time around he had five hours asleep instead of his usual two.
Trench disliked these superficial types of meetings. He found it a complete waste of time. What they discussed could be sent through simple holomails. All the meeting was, and always would be, was the other generals and admirals of the Confederacy giving updates and receiving orders from their Supreme Commander, General Grievous.
Trench didn't know much about Grievous, having first heard of the cyborg Kaleesh when he joined the CIS two standard days after the battle of Geonosis. He did know the Kaleesh was ruthless—savage was probably a better word—when conducting battles against their foes. Grievous didn't care about the laws of war, having already greenlighted multiple unethical weapons of mass destruction, such as chemical and biological, against the pathetic disgrace of soldiers the Grand Army of the Republic utilized. The Supreme Commander would prey on the gentle noble hearts of the Jedi by using innocents as shields or cannon fodder.
The cyborg was more monster than machine or man. Trench not only respected that but strived to be what Grievous was.
Trench prided himself in the reputation he had accumulated in his lifetime. All would think twice when coming face to face with a starship bearing his insignia. Grievous was different. In the short span of a month and half, he not only established a foothold in the Mid-Rim, but also controlled a majority of hyper-lanes that the Republic needed to travel through to push the Confederate back.
Those of the Republic do not think twice when facing Grievous. They had only one thought: run.
"Admiral Trench," Grievous began, his voice hoarse and scratchy. "Christophsis has resources that our army needs. You are to blockade while General Whorm lays siege planet side. I want that planet to be ours in two months' time."
Christophsis was a sound strategic target. The planet's resources were still fresh and bountiful. Plus, Trench's specialty was in engaging blockades and Whorm, though a bit too honorable for his liking, was experienced in ground warfare and would prove advantageous in the takeover.
"No one will break my blockade, General."
"See that no one does, or else—"
A new hologram fizzled to life, interrupting Grievous. Trench was taken back from the intrusion. It was his prized student, Coquer, looking a bit worse for wear. The young man's hair was unkempt and wild. His uniform was blatantly put on at the last second, having a few buttons improperly fastened.
Coquer ran his hands through his hair in a poor attempt to make himself presentable. "Apologies for being late, General Grievous. I was—"
"Save it, boy," Grievous barked before coughing harshly into his hand. Once settled, he granted Coquer a harsh glare. "I don't know why Dooku decided a boy fresh off his mother's teat could wage battle like the rest of us. But until he could see the errors in his judgement, you will follow orders like the tool you are. That includes arriving to meetings on time."
Trench gazed upon the other high ranking officers of the CIS. Some were giving a nod of approval from Grievous' harsh words. Others had an obvious grin on their faces, pleased that the boy was taken down a few notches. The Harch was the only one not having a hint of pleasure with the cyborg's scolding.
He wanted to speak up for the boy, reasoning with the General that they were late for a meeting at one point or another, but he knew couldn't do that. Coquer was no longer a boy he needed to look after and teach, but a military commander in charge of his own fleet. A mentor Trench might be, he cannot fight all of the young commander's battles.
Coquer bowed his head. Frustration was etched on his face. "I understand, General. It will not happen again."
"I know it won't." Grievous directed his gaze to the others. "You're all dismissed."
One by one, holograms of the other officers flickered out of existence. Grievous was the last one to exit. He scoffed at Coquer before ending his transmission. At the end, the only ones left were Coquer and Trench.
His former student raised his head, eyeing him with clear discontent. "Do you wish to scold me as well, Admiral?"
"I believe Grievous had done an effective enough job at that." Trench shook his head, sighing. "This is very unlike you Coquer."
"I know," Coquer breathed. "I just...haven't been sleeping well since Dantooine."
Trench could see the words Coquer said rang true. There were heavy bags underneath his eyes, matched with the dark rings around them. His posture, usually tall and filled with confidence, was slouched, radiating a defeated aura.
"Talk to me, Coquer," Trench ordered gently, his voice soft, almost fatherly. "You might not be under my tutelage anymore, but I still view myself as your mentor and I care about your well-being."
A hint of a smile crept its way on Coquer's fatigue face. "Thanks, Trench." He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "I... I've been having nightmares. Disturbing ones," he added.
"About the war?" Trench questioned.
No one was immune to the effects of war. It will break the unfortunate participant one way or another with time. Those young usually suffered first at the realization of their actions. Trench was amazed—well, more so disturbed that the effects took this long to reach his student.
Coquer shook his head. "No—or, well—at least I don't think it is. It is always the same dream, with the only thing changing was the pitch of the scream."
Trench tightened his grip on his swagger stick, his eyes taking a worrying tone. "Screams?"
"Yeah. It's muffled, like they're being gagged or suffocated."
"Is that all that happens?" Trench hoped that it was.
"Kind of," Coquer answered. "The screams happen in a—I don't know, a white void, I guess? And I see flashes of red during it all until…" he trailed off.
"Until what, my boy?"
"A face," Coquer sighed. "A blurred face appearing out of thin air, opening their mouth so unnaturally wide, then they scream." He had a distant look in his eyes. "And scream." His hands started to twitched. "And scream. It was so damn loud. It was like a—"
"Coquer!"
The young man gasped, startled at the raised voice of the Harch. Trench shook his head in disappointment. Not at the frightened boy shaking in front of him, but at himself. He wanted to help his student, not make him relive the nightmare that plagued him.
He was not fit to tackle this situation.
"I'm sorry Coquer, I didn't mean—"
"No, I should be sorry," he hastily apologized. "I should be stronger than this. Should only worry about the next conquest, right?" he finished with a small smile and a light chuckle.
But Trench wasn't laughing. Yes, one should only concern themselves with the next conquest. But when one's health, regardless of if it was physical or mental, affects the next conquest, then that should take precedence.
"Perhaps you should request a leave of absence to separate yourself from the war?"
"I can't. You know I can't." He straightened his spine. "We're too early in this war for anyone to request such things. And besides, I doubt Grievous would accept my request, regardless if my Lord is the one whom he answers to."
Coquer was right, much to Trench's displeasure. Leave was a perk, not a right for soldiers. In times of war, it was a perk that was easily discarded.
"Very well," Trench resigned. The tough realities of war. "The General hasn't assigned your fleet with any missions. I suggest using this down time to unwind."
"I might just do that." He started grinning, life returning to his eyes. "You know, I've been teaching my men how to play chess."
Trench chuckled lightly, happy for the change in conversation. "Really now? How many times have they beaten you? Knowing you, Coquer, surely in the double digits."
They both shared a short laugh at the tease. "Funny, Trench," he chortled. "They're as good as you expect B-1 droids to be. Except for two, actually—Lugnut and Watts. I believe I mentioned the droids once or twice in our holomails. Lugnut actually got me in check without any handicaps."
"Sounds like you're losing your edge," Trench teased.
"Or there's more than what meets the eyes about them," Coquer countered, shrugging a shoulder. "Anyways, I should let you go Admiral. I'm sure Grievous has assigned a task to you."
That the cyborg did. Christophsis was some par-secs away from his location. It would take a couple of days to reach the crystalline planet.
"It was good to see and hear you again, Coquer."
"You as well, Trench. I miss you—" Coquer cleared his throat, blushing slightly. "I miss your wise counsel, Admiral."
Trench smiled at those words. He knew what the commander meant, and the feeling was mutual.
"Till we meet again, my friend."
Coquer smiled at the title he graced him with. "Till we meet again."
Author's Note: I guess you can see where we are going next with the story. It was bound to happen, but what comes after no one knows.
Fun fact, where we are currently at with the story, it's between chapters 3- 4 of the original fic. Crazy to see how much I rushed the OG in hindsight.
I would like to thank you guys for your support. Its awesome to see my hard work is actually paying off, especially since we are closely approaching the same stats of the OG, which is my most popular work somehow.
Till Next Time.