As promised, I'm back with another chapter. I do hope you're ready for this one. You probably wondered what made Drakken into who he is. How did he become so good at war, and why did he resist his feelings for Freya. Well...here it is.

Drakken ran through the woods with Talay by his side. Their haphazard combat outfits blended in well with their surroundings; dark green hooded cloaks over an eclectic mix of Garosian planetary defense gear and salvaged and painted plastoid-alloy clone armor. They stopped by an ancient tree, nearly as wide as Drakken was tall, and sat against it. The teens placed their E-5 blasters up against the tree and both burst out laughing.

"Did you see those droids go up? Did you…" Talay laughed.

"Saw you when you threw that grenade into the room!" The sixteen-year-old guerilla replied heartily. "I almost got hit with a B-1's leg…and I was thirty meters away." The fifteen-year-old girl at his side giggled. She pulled off her headgear, a green cap with an armored band, and let her long blonde hair fall about her shoulders. She wrapped her arms around the boy.

"You…are such…a random hero, Drakken." She said, and bit her lip. "Nobody could keep this gang of ours together like you, you know that?" He leaned in and kissed her cheek.

"Nobody could keep me together like you either, Tay." He smiled.

The strike team crept upon the rendezvous point one at a time. Out of the dense forest, like some predatory animals, appeared the twelve-man unit of rebels. Most were between thirteen and twenty years old, the oldest was thirty-one. When they arrived, they found that Tharcourt had been the first to get there as usual. The young man briefed them again on what they could expect, and what was expected of them. The guerillas moved to their assigned spots, about half of them across the nearby road, and all of them overlooking the path from concealed and camouflaged positions. As they waited, Drakken took out his twin A-180 blaster pistols and twirled them on his fingers.

"You're getting better with that." Talay commented in a whisper from two meters away. "It looks so dashing." Drakken shot her a grin and spun both of the blasters at the same time.

"Lot of time to practice." He muttered. They heard the sound of a droid tank approaching. Drakken twirled a finger in the air and made a fist. Talay let out a songbird-like whistle as Tharcourt turned to the boy next to him. "Bartou…" He whispered. "…ready on the launcher." His fellow freedom fighter nodded and hefted a rocket launcher onto his shoulder.

"On it, Drakken."

"Remember…take out the track or you're wasting the shot." He advised. Bartou nodded, and got into position.

The tank moved down the narrow road, followed by two unarmed and lightly-armored cargo vehicles. Drakken mentally counted the droids who walked alongside the vehicles in the small convoy. Eighteen…plus a couple in the tank. If everything was executed properly, this should be quick and clean. He kept his eyes on the tall tree by the road, the one he had marked with a painted line. As soon as the droid tank reached it, Drakken Tharcourt swept his arm down. Bartou fired the launcher, the armor-piercing warhead striking the tank where the track met the drive-cog. The metal belt made a grinding sound before breaking, rendering the vehicle immobile.

"Fire!" Tharcourt yelled. All twelve of the strike team unleashed a torrent of blaster fire down onto the road. The droids caught out in the open were cut down quickly. A droid popped up slightly from the hatch of the tank and began firing as the guns on the droid craft began to elevate and turn toward the Garosian rebels on the opposite hill. "Tay! Take out that tank! I'll cover!" Drakken called. Talay pulled two thermal detonators from pouches on her gear, and Drakken started down the hill, firing both of his blaster pistols as she sprinted toward the tank. When they were within ten meters, the blonde teenager activated the grenades simultaneously, and lobbed them one at a time toward the tank. Both bounced down the commander's hatch. The B-1 in the opening stopped shooting and looked down.

"Uh-oh…" It spoke just before an explosion ripped through the vehicle.

Another B-1 stepped out from behind the tank, preparing to fire on Tay, but Drakken caught it with eight bolts from his twin blasters. The young woman gave him a quick smile and a nod. Drakken took a running leap and was suddenly on top of the smoking tank, firing at any droid that still moved. His girlfriend and lieutenant in the rebellion jumped on beside him and drew her own blaster as they tore through the remining droids. The rest of the strike team came down the slopes on both sides of the road like twin landslides, and within moments, the last of the droids were smashed. Within the two transports was enough food and gas cartridges to keep the rebellion alive for the next six months.

"Garos!" Drakken yelled, holding his right blaster to the sky. "Garos!"

"Garos!" The team cheered. Tharcourt was spun about, and Talay kissed him on the lips.

"This is why they keep you around to lead them, you know?" She said teasingly. He laughed.

"Why do you?" He asked with a smile. They kissed again.

"Because I love you."

Drakken was knelt down as he held Talay in his arms. A thin rivulet of blood streaming from her nose was the only thing marring her still beautiful features. Tears fell from his face, dripping onto her dirty green poncho. It wasn't fair. They had won. The checkpoint had been cleared. Nobody could have known that droid was still functional. Its upper half, badly damaged itself, had possessed enough life left in it to fire once. Once was all it had taken. Tay was struck in the back as she hugged Drakken after another victory. He carried her back to the camp the main body of the rebellion was using at the moment, and lay her down by the campfire.

"I'm sorry…" He whispered. "I'm sorry, Tay…" He leaned in close and gently kissed her forehead.

"Tharcourt…" Someone said softly from behind him. Eban Bartou stepped closer cautiously, as if he were treading through a minefield. "I'm so sorry this happened…"

"Should've been me, Eban…" Drakken growled.

"What do we do…sir?" The son of a Garosian sergeant asked meekly. Drakken gently and carefully lay Talay's head on the ground, and drew his fingers down her pale cheek. He stood, and looked down on her body for a moment more, then turned to his new second. Eban was almost shocked by the cold look in his friend's brown eyes.

"Gather the strike team." Drakken said gravely. "We're going on the offensive."

Within four months, the Separatists still controlled the cities, but had lost control of the countryside. Drakken's small unit was only a part of a larger rebellion against the droid occupiers, but his name became one well-known on both sides of the conflict. Rebel commanders tried to court the young man into consolidating his strike team into their larger, better-equipped units, but he always declined. As time wore on, rumors circulated that Count Dooku himself had placed a ten-thousand-credit bounty on Drakken. Tharcourt countered by having the underground in the cities post flyers everywhere with crudely-drawn images of the Serenno nobleman, offering a two-credit bounty for his head, with a postscript stating that this was all the Sep leader was worth. When a story surfaced that The Grievous would come personally to hunt down and exterminate him, Drakken welcomed the news, saying that he would love a chance to kill the legendary warrior.

Then one day, the war was over. It happened so suddenly that neither Drakken nor many of the other resistance fighters knew what was happening. Tharcourt's strike team were making their way to a Separatist forward operating base. They arrived to find over fifty B-1 and ten B-2 battle droids laying motionless on the ground. Thinking it was a trap, they had kept their distance, then slowly made their way to a small checkpoint station outside of Garos City. There, six more deactivated droids greeted them. Drakken cautiously stepped inside the building and located their comms equipment. He flipped through the frequencies, but found nothing but silence or static.

Then the news came. The war was over. Not just for Garos, but for the galaxy. The Seps had been defeated. The Jedi had attempted a coup, but republic forces had routed them, and the ancient order had been destroyed. Enemy personnel still remained on Garos, and had to be dealt with. Most of them were alien or human military officers and political figures. Some had retinues of armed guards, while others somehow had managed to reactivate platoons of battle droids to protect themselves. Being so coreward in the Mid Rim though, meant that help would arrive soon enough.

Drakken took little time to take stock of it all. The Republic had become the Empire, and Garos was once again free, save for the new Imperial forces that had been sent to restore order. Not that it mattered much to the seventeen-year-old Drakken. Tay was dead. So were many of his friends and fellow rebels. His parents had disowned him. The land he'd loved as a kid was utterly destroyed, and somewhere inside, Drakken felt that the kid he had been had died with the rest of it. He found the commander of the Imperial forces on Garos, who was more than happy to meet the boy he had already heard so much about. With little hesitation, Tharcourt had requested to join the Imperial Navy.

…..

"Kiffa…I have to go. You wouldn't understand." Drakken tried to reason.

"No…I wouldn't." The raven-haired young woman shot back. "You have everything you could ever want here, Drak. Why in the kriff would you wanna go to a void-damned place where people are dying?!"

"I…maybe because I want to make a difference." He said, and immediately realized how weak and pathetic an argument it was.

"Make a difference? Drakken, killing people and dying on some scughole planet nobody's ever heard of isn't going to change anything!"

"Yeah…it will!" He exclaimed. "Maybe I can do something to save the lives of some of those Imperial soldiers on Mimban, Kiffa. It's better than sitting here…pretending to be a soldier."

"War is the worst thing in the Galaxy." Kiffa said emotionally. Her cheeks were turning red, and she had tears in her blue eyes. "Killing another sentient is second." She gasped. "I know, Drakken…you…you can resign your commission. My family has oodles of credits, and with my job…we can be happy, Drak! We can go see the Cannius Nebula like you wanted!" She took him by the hand. "You don't want to do this…"

"I have to go…" He said softly. "I'm a soldier, Kif…I always was." She let go of his hand and stormed across the room.

"I can't…" She said angrily, throwing up her hands. She turned toward him, tears falling down her face. "I can't be with a man who loves war…who loves murder more than he does me. So go on, Drakken. Go to that planet. Go tear at your enemies like a rabid lothwolf, go get your medals for bravery and go get yourself killed!" She burst into sobs. He slowly approached.

"Kiffa…" He said gently, reaching out a hand. She slapped it away.

"Get out of my house, Drakken." She growled. "Get out. I never…want to see you again."

"Kif…" She tiredly pushed him away and sat on the expensive leather sofa in their upscale home.

"Drakken…I really…really hope you find what you're looking for there." She said ominously. "And I hope you can live with it when you do."

He stood on the muddy field. Trenchworks and fortifications spread out across the endless battlefield like some insidious ever-growing vine, strangling the planet. Before him, the trench was filled with Mimbanese dead. Medics were carting off the wounded troopers, and the dead of the Imperial army were scattered across the muddy field. Drakken sat down in the muck and lit a cigarra, a recent habit that he found kept his hands from shaking. His mind seemed so empty, so blank, despite the battle he'd just fought. There was no elation at the victory, nor was there any grief. He just felt…empty, hollow.

"Lieutenant Tharcourt…" Sergeant Turelin called, jogging up. "Sir, we're getting the numbers in…" He noticed the lieutenant's expression as Tharcourt looked up. "I…thought you'd like to know, sir."

"Yes, sergeant?" Drakken said coldly.

"Over two hundred enemy killed, sir. That's by this platoon alone." The sergeant nodded. "We did good, sir."

"Did we?" Drakken asked back. "How many of us made it this far, sergeant?" The navy trooper let his head fall a little, and he nodded.

"Cascomb died, sir." He returned. "Vernoth probably…won't make it either. There's ten of us."

"Then it wasn't a victory." Drakken grumbled. "I told you not to follow me into that trench."

"Couldn't let you go alone, sir." Turelin stated.

"That all, sergeant?" Tharcourt sighed.

"Yessir."

"Then check on corporal Tennes, alright?" The sergeant saluted and jogged off. Drakken looked at his hands. They were still covered in blood from his assault on the bunker. The sleeves of his coat were practically caked with mud, blood and viscera. He wiped at his arm, and felt something semisolid in his fingers. He held it out and stared at it. It was a patch of pinkish flesh. He took a drag from his cigarra and cast the piece of mimbanese scalp into the trench. Kiffa's words resonated in his head;

"Drakken…I really…really hope you find what you're looking for there…and I hope you can live with it when you do." He sucked down the last of the cigarra and tossed the smoldering butt into the muddy trench. Drakken stood, feeling the ache of nearly a week of constant fighting. He looked out again over the battlefield. Somewhere in the distance, he heard the low thrums of Imperial artillery and Walkers beginning a new assault. 'Live with it Hell…' He thought to himself. 'If a man can't live with what he is, it isn't much of a living." Drakken sighed and looked down.

"I am what I am." He said to the blood-soaked mud of Mimban. "Somebody has to be."

It all seemed so far away now…Kiffa, Garos, his parents…Tay. It all felt like another lifetime, or someone else's even. His right hand trembled, and Drakken squeezed it with his left, massaged it a bit. She'd been right. War was the worst scourge of the galaxy. Then again, Tharcourt had already known that. He had always known that, and he knew exactly why he was standing on this murky battleground, lightyears away from everything he'd ever known…

Drakken looked at the command module, gazing through one of Mimban's frequent thunderstorms. Around him, officers and soldiers jogged past, wearing raincoats or holding bits of tarp over their heads to shield them from the downpour. Drakken had neither. He'd become inured to the weather…to many things. He stepped into the utilitarian structure, and threw a salute to the captain of the 549th Mechanized, and to Commander Weblen Verellis, the Navy officer commanding his unit. The two men saluted back, and Tharcourt ventured further into the room.

It was a sparse, practical space; durasteel walls, ceiling and floor allowed not only the ability to air-drop the containerized structure, but offered a small amount of protection from blaster fire and fragmentation. The only furniture in the room he now stood were a few chairs, a data terminal and a holomap table, behind which stood the two officers. Somebody had placed a caf maker on a small stand in the corner, and Commander Verellis practically slung a quaff of the dark liquid into a tin mess cup and slid it across the table in Tharcourt's direction. Drakken caught the cup and took a big gulp of the bitter drink.

"Lieutenant Tharcourt." Verellis greeted. "Just the man I wanted to see." Drakken took another drink of caf and nodded.

"Got a job, sir?" Drakken returned, water and mud still running off of his uniform and combat gear, puddling around him on the floor.

"Are you a mercenary now, lieutenant?" The Naval officer commented with an amused smirk.

"No sir." Tharcourt answered stoically. "Just wondering when I get to go back out, sir." Verellis gave a sympathetic nod.

"Not much for foreplay, are you, lieutenant? Yes, I may have an assignment worthy of a man of your…talents." Drakken nodded dutifully, and the commander pointed to the holomap. Tharcourt could see a series of trenches and bunkers, much like he'd seen for the past month. "The Mimbanese have a perfect defensive ring set up on this hill." He explained. "Their antiarmor cannons are built into the side of the hill, preventing us from eliminating them with an airstrike. The walkers cannot get close enough to dole out any real damage. We need to silence those guns before we can take the position."

"Understood." Tharcourt muttered, looking over the enemy defenses. "Orders?"

"We are going to assault the position en masse." The Army captain stated. "Just as we did at positions Zero-Bravo…" He pointed. "And Five-Gamma."

"We lost two companies at Five-Gamma. Sir, I think I have a better idea." Tharcourt stated, placing his finger on the map. "A small patrol could evade the enemy and navigate this gap here…" He moved his finger up the map. "…all the way up to this emplacement. If we could take that, we would have a straight shot at disabling those heavies."

"Too risky." Verellis countered. "A small unit of men, that far behind enemy lines, far too dang…" He cast a cautious look at Tharcourt, who met eyes with his commanding officer. "Well, you know what I mean, lieutenant."

"I know the danger, sir." Drakken nodded. "That's why I will volunteer to lead the team in." The commander started to speak, but Tharcourt continued. "Sir, a frontal attack on this position…you know as well as me that I'm probably going to die anyway, along with at least sixty-percent of the fighting force in taking that position. At least this way, I can get a few shots off at them."

"I will have to agree with the lieutenant…" A voice stated. They all came to attention as General Ectorius entered the command post, throwing off a rubberized poncho as he came in the door. The theatre commander walked to the table as the three officers saluted. "This is going to be a meat grinder for sure. I don't see a problem with allowing this little experiment…"

Tharcourt sat on a ledge on the enemy hill. Below, a score of two-legged walkers strutted among the ruins of the Mimbanese trench lines and Mudtroopers swarmed the overtaken enemy fortifications. He lit a cigarra and pulled deeply at the burning tabac as a light drizzle began to fall from the low clouds of the constantly wet planet. He heard footsteps behind him in the mud, and didn't even bother to turn around.

"Dank…Farric, Tharcourt…" Commander Verellis stated. "I thought you could do it, but…never thought you'd be this…efficient." The Navy commander took off his muddy black helmet, and held it by its large, flared back as he sat down next to his subordinate.

"I ran jobs like this during the Clone Wars." Drakken explained in a tired, detached voice. "We did this…almost every day."

"You have family, Tharcourt?" Verellis asked, almost sympathetically.

"Mm." Drakken hummed to the negative, taking a drag from his cigarra. "No sir."

"Well where's home?" The commander inquired. Tharcourt looked around like it was an impossible question.

"Only home I ever knew, sir." He answered. "Could you get someone to bring me some caf, sir? Hate to ask, but I'm about killed out after that."

"Wh…certainly…I'd say so!" Verellis said incredulously. He looked about and spied a trooper walking past. "Corporal!"

"Yes sir?"

"Bring the lieutenant some caf." The trooper saluted and ran off. Verellis turned back to the broody but insanely effective combat officer before him. "Tharcourt, I want to take you out of this theatre." Drakken looked at him with a shocked expression.

"Sir…may I ask why?"

"Eh, this conflict is winding down now. Keeping you here I think…it's a waste. You're a damned good fighter, lieutenant…and the Empire needs you elsewhere." Drakken stared into space as if processing that for a few silent moments, then gave a slight nod.

"Where does she need me?" He asked.

"Stack up! Prepare for entry…just like I showed you, men! One left, Two right, Three left and so on." Tharcourt ordered the eight-man boarding team as they prepared to enter the freighter. The stormtroopers all held their E-11 blasters at the ready.

"Yes sir." They all returned smartly. Drakken gave a nod. Two navy troopers brought up a plasma torch, and began cutting through the hatch. Once they had completed the burn, the door fell inward. No sooner had it hit the deck than Tharcourt lobbed a stun grenade into the space beyond. There was a bright pulse of light and a deafening crack.

"Go…go…go!" He yelled. The stormtroopers moved quickly into the suspected pirate vessel, followed by Drakken and the two navy troopers. Tharcourt held an SE-14r in each hand, and as he entered the ship, he went to the left, toward the cockpit. In a corridor, the body of a weequay lay on the floor, singed with six blaster hits to the chest. Tharcourt shook his head. Who in their right mind would go up against a fire team of Stormtroopers with a little hideout blaster? He kicked the weapon away from the dead alien's hand and moved on.

At the entrance to the cockpit, a pair of stormtroopers had a human man on his knees, his hands behind his head. The man was a rough-looking customer; a scar ran down his face into a thin stubble of reddish-brown beard. His clothing pointed to someone who spent most of their time aboard a ship, but his now-empty holster and belt of power cells pointed toward a man who wasn't afraid to fight. Tharcourt holstered his blasters, and after receiving word that the ship had been cleared, and three more suspects were in custody, he pulled the man up by his lapels.

"You. You're the captain of this vessel?" Tharcourt questioned.

"That's right." The man answered gruffly. "And I'm not doing anything wrong, so you people can sod off."

"You didn't respond to our orders to heave to and put in." Drakken said.

"I…I had comms problems." The man lied.

"Uh-huh." Drakken said facetiously. "And your radio problems just happened to cause this ship to attempt a hyperspace jump…in a known piracy zone…" He narrowed his eyes at the captain. "Oh, in the presence of a Cantwell-Class and an ISD, which is pretty kriffing stupid, if you ask me."

"So space me, I didn't want to put up with the headache of all the red tape." The man said.

"Sir, you should come to the cargo hold." A trooper stated over the comms. Drakken held up a finger to the captain as if to say 'one minute', and disappeared aft.

There were three human and four twi'lek women in the shipping container. Tharcourt felt a twinge of nausea as he realized exactly what was going on here. He opened the portable cell, and helped the prisoners out as the three troopers with him inspected the rest of the cargo. All of the women were young, about eighteen or nineteen, and they looked frightened.

"All of you can relax…" Drakken said. "…this ship has just been seized by the Empire. You ladies uh…are…um…" He almost couldn't say the word. "You're…slaves, correct?" A couple of the girls nodded to the affirmative. Drakken knew the law on slavery. If these women were in fact servants, they would be returned to their former master or broker if this ship were seized and the crew arrested. "Where were you bought? Who owned you before?"

"N…nobody." One of the human girls answered shakily. "This crew…they showed up and took me. I live on Dantooine."

"They got me and my sister on Coruscant." One of the Twi'lek girls said bitterly, holding the hand of another of the women who was the same shade of green. Tharcourt sighed.

"Any of you actually slaves before these guys kidnapped you?" All of them nodded to the negative. "Well…that makes it easier, I guess…" He wiped his face. "Son of a bantha…"

"Sir, it looks like he was moving weapons as well." One of the stormtroopers advised, looking into a crate.

"Of course they were." Drakken stated. He marched back up to the cockpit, grabbed the captain by the collar and slammed his back against the bulkhead.

"Found your valuable kriffin' cargo, and you're in it deep." He growled.

"Hey, hey. It's just slaves." The captain protested.

"No, those are Imperial citizens you kidnapped to sell into slavery. Innocent women you were going to sell like livestock, you piece of dwang." The captain smirked defiantly.

"Yeah, what are you going to do?" The man sneered.

"How about I launch you into the first black hole I find?" Drakken shot back.

"You can't prove a thing. It's my word against theirs, and if I say they're slaves, my word rules. It's a technicality." The slaver captain stated. He brushed off Tharcourt's hand. "What do you care anyway?"

"Yeah…wait until I get a signed affidavit from your crew that you people abducted these women illegally and were taking them to Hutt Space where you could sell them with no interference." The three remaining crewmen were brought up by the stormtroopers from the cargo bay.

"Nobody's gonna sign something like that." The captain said. "Are you, boys?"

"I'd suggest you think really hard about that, boys." Tharcourt added. "Tell the truth, and you might make it through this."

"Come on…" The smuggler said. "All this trouble over those gals? A piece of tail? Come on. Slaves don't mean nothin'. Might as well be moving slabs of bantha meat on this ship, eh?" He grinned a little. "I'll tell you what, you look like a lonely guy, officer. How about I hook you up? You give us a clean bill of health, and I'll let you have your pick of those girls. The cute blue Twi'lek is super nimble if you catch my meaning…" He chuckled, and Drakken put his arm over the man's shoulder and feigned a chuckle.

"Yeah…yeah…she's super nimble?" Drakken laughed, leading the captain down the starboard corridor aft. "Really?" He suddenly slammed the man against a small hatch and hit the button beside it. The portal opened, and Tharcourt drew a blaster and shot the man in the gut. The captain fell back into the small escape pod, and Tharcourt hit the button on the control panel, shutting the door and jettisoning the pod. He quickly made his way back to the bridge.

"Furor, Furor, this is boarding party Alpha." Drakken called over his comms.

"Furor Receiving." A voice returned.

"One subject attempting escape from boarded vessel via escape pod, over."

"Understood, we have a visual on escape pod."

"Destroy that escape pod." Drakken stated.

"Understood." The man at the other end of the transmission said. Tharcourt turned to the three crewmen of the freighter.

"You see how easy it is for disgusting filth like you to just…vaporize?" He asked. "Could happen to anybody. How about we fill out those confessions and get those girls back to their homes…" He turned to his own men. "And did you fellows see that pirate try to escape?"

"Yes sir." The stormtrooper sergeant close by stated. "Almost made it, sir."

Lothal was an experience like none other so far for Drakken. In many ways, it reminded him of the War he fought in his youth; he had a small cadre of soldiers in his command, and they practically lived in the field. The difference was that this time, the quarry was different. It was as if the roles had been reversed. Now he was hunting rebels, seditionists who used some of the same hit-and-run tactics he'd used on Garos. Once his troopers found this out, he became a bit of a celebrity.

"Is it true you used to be a rebel, sir?" Sergeant Garm Sage asked as they sat around a campfire in their desert bivouac. Drakken chuckled.

"In my own planet's war…yes, sergeant. I guess I was a rebel. I suppose that's how I can predict them." He took a bite of his field rations, which he always ate with his troopers. "You have to get inside their head, ask yourself what you would do in their place. You have to think like them."

"Huh. They're nothin' but rats." Corporal Skye Ores, one of the scout troopers commented. The lean, short-haired woman looked at her lieutenant and gave a nervous smirk. "Sir." Drakken scoffed.

"You ever try to catch a rat, Corporal Ores?" He replied.

"No sir…" She said.

"You ever tried to shoot one on the run?" He added. She sighed.

"Yeah…" The young trooper admitted sheepishly.

"Wasn't so easy, was it?" Lieutenant Tharcourt asked. "Rats are fast. Agile. Quiet. They don't care what they eat or where they have to hide. You turn on the lights, they're gone before you can throw a boot at them. Rats are the hardest animal in the galaxy to get rid of. You are damned straight these terrorists are rats." He took a sip of his water, flavored with a beverage powder packet from his ration kit. "I spent years living like a rat…and the Seps never got me. But believe you me, troopers…I got a really…really high number…of them." The logs on the fire crackled loudly, as if to add some dramatic effect to the speech.

"So if you want to catch a rat, you have to begin thinking like a rat." Sergeant Sage stated thoughtfully, chewing on a food bar.

"Exactly, sarn't." Drakken nodded. "And that's what I'm going to teach you all to do. No Atat's behind us, and no TIE squadrons overhead. We're going to fight like they do." He shot a glance at the always cocky scout trooper corporal across the campfire. "Don't worry, Corporal Ores…I'll hold your hand and teach you how to rough it." The camp erupted in laughter, and in that moment, Lieutenant Tharcourt had won over the entire platoon.

The platoon stood in the cave, surrounded by all manner of hardware, none of which were items normally found in a cavern in the desert. Tharcourt had found the cave-dotted area on a map, and after cross-checking it with local population centers and recent terrorist activity, he had ordered the area scoured. They had uncovered this hidden cache early on the second day of their search. Cases and crates were stacked chest-high, and a rack of blasters lined a wall. There was even a large container of purified water resting against the far wall, next to a bin of electronics parts.

"This is one major catalogue of weaponry…" Ores commented.

"Yeah…and I wonder how many lives we just saved by finding it?" The Lieutenant returned. "Alright Ores, mark it on the map. Sergeant Sage, bring in the charges. I want this blown in place. All of it."

"Yessir." The stormtrooper saluted, and left the cave with two more troopers to fetch their demolition charges. Tharcourt reached into one of the crates and drew out some dried fruit and meat bars, and stuffed them into his pockets. He caught the scout trooper staring at him.

"Never pass up an opportunity to let the enemy feed you." He said with a smile. He tossed one of the food bars to her. "This stuff's better than our stuff. Living like rats has its advantages, doesn't it, corporal?" He walked out of the cave, and the scout took off her helmet. She opened the bar and took a bite of the delicious dense mass of meat and fruit.

"Mmm…" She remarked. "Don't think I mind it at all."

Tharcourt was determined to not let the terrorists escape. The man, the boy, the girl in the helmet and the large alien had practically torn through an entire squadron of troopers to get out of Lothal City before Drakken had been able to arrive with his team. As soon as he spotted them, he knew that these were the rebels he had been hunting for nearly six months.

"Sergeant, take first squad to the left. Corporal, take second to the right, come up that alleyway over there. We have to pen them in…a pincer maneuver, you understand?" They both nodded, and took their squads off into the fray. Drakken turned to a stormtrooper commander nearby. "You…I want your men to lay down suppressive fire from this position. When my platoon catches them in a crossfire, I want you to advance down this street in a split column, keeping up your fire until the objective is reached. Do you understand, son?"

"Yessir!" The stormtrooper saluted. Tharcourt took another look at the scene, and dashed off toward the fighting. He drew his twin SE-14r blasters and sprinted down an adjoining street. The plan was simple; his team would cut them off and catch them in an inescapable crossfire while the main body of stormtroopers simply added a lot of sound and fury. Meanwhile, he himself would sneak up on them from behind and finish the job. He made a turn, and crept up an alley. Peeking out from the edge of the building, he could see the terrorists just twenty meters from him.

"Squad leaders, engage." He stated over his helmet's headset. He heard a slight crescendo in blaster fire, signaling that his strategy was playing out as he had hoped. He swung out around the building, the sights of his blasters on the tall man.

BUHBOOM

An explosion sent Drakken hurtling backwards. He landed on a stand of meiloorun fruit, the entire table collapsing under his weight. He tried to sit up, but his body was wracked with pain. He coughed, and forced his eyes to open. Drakken rolled onto his side, falling off of the pile of smashed fruit, and he looked upwards. A small freighter-turned-gunship had appeared out of nowhere, and was laying waste to everything in its path. It swooped down, and the small band of terrorists hopped aboard easily as the ship continued to belt out a withering fire.

"Squad leaders!" He called over his headset, firing at the ship down the street. His small blaster did little to even attract any attention from the crew of enemy fighters. "Squad leaders?! Sage, Ores, come in!" The ship shot off, and a small handful of Imperial troopers arose from the smoke. His headset crackled.

"Squ…received heav…two down…" Drakken slapped the small antenna on his helmet and coughed.

"Repeat…" He uttered.

"Squad one sir, we took some heavy fire. We have two wounded, sir."

"Damnit…" Tharcourt growled. He stood, and winced at the pain in his ribs. It was only now that he noticed the coin-sized piece of metal shrapnel protruding from his thigh. Being next to an explosion was never a fun experience. "Second squad…come in." He hailed over the frequency, but there was no answer. "Second squad…"

"TK-3479, second squad, sir." A voice came back. "Corporal Ores is dead, sir. TK-44312 is down too, sir. We also have one wounded."

"Understood…" Tharcourt said, his voice grim and detached. He gazed up at the small dot of a ship disappearing into the atmosphere, his mind on the two troopers he had just lost. "I'm going to kill every last one of you rats…" He muttered.

Seeing Firmus after fourteen years was a surprise for sure. It was a huge navy, and an even bigger galaxy. They had vowed to meet again, but Tharcourt hadn't really thought they would, despite how close the two men had grown in their time together on The Starburst. Now on an ISD, and promised some mysterious and probably dangerous assignment by his old mentor and friend, Drakken felt oddly like his life was shifting again to some strange new purpose. Maybe it was just his imagination, or some sense of nostalgia brought about by being in the presence of what was essentially the only friend he had had since leaving home.

He did have to admit that much. If the military had become his home, his family, then Firmus Piett was his older brother. Not too hard to consider. Firmus was after all the more mature and level-headed of the two. At least now he would have someone to talk to…granted they would have time to engage in idle chitchat. He lay back on the small bunk in his quarters and stared at the ceiling, wondering now what new assignment had come his way. Did it really matter though? One job was as good as another. One group of dissidents trying to destroy the peace and order of the galaxy were just as bad as the other. This was his life, he mused. A life of duty…

So yeah...makes sense now, doesn't it? Drakken's enotionally aloof attitude, his overprotectiveness, his social awkwardness...he's the perfect warrior, the one always there to help the ones he cares about. He is also a man broken inside. A man who shows kindness and mercy to others he's never been shown himself. He's someone trapped in the trauma of his past, and he's been unable to escape it for over twenty years. Never judge somebody until you've had to walk their path. Maybe now Freya can be what he's always needed...or maybe they both need something more. I'll be back with another chapter soon, my loyal readers. In the meantime, let me know what you thought of this revelation. Until next time my friends, Cheerio!