Chapter 10
The turbolift doors whoosh open on the main floor, revealing a room of bustling imperials. A trio of scouts in camouflaged armor exit with Simz. Meanwhile, Gale moves among the imperials, dispersing and repositioning them. The lift beeps, warning another floor is calling, so the commander and Iona step off. The doors whoosh closed immediately.
"Commander," Doctor Wither waited off to the side of the turbolift; she hands him a datapad. He looks and realizes it's the inventory he requested. "You piqued my curiosity; how could a viper probe droid help communicate off-planet?"
"Vipers have long-range communication, ma'am," Iona details. "Not just transmissions, they can actively communicate beyond the system. That's how they reported rebel positions in rural regions. If one rises to orbit, this facility can covertly communicate by line of sight."
"I love vipers," he declares. "I used them to decimate rebels on Mimban. The vipers identified their positions; then, we hit them with walkers and artillery. They relayed real-time troop movements, assisted communication between units, and tracked retreating insurgents. Their sensors are cutting-edge technology and programmed for shrewd decisionmaking."
Doctor Wither ignores him, asking instead, "Can the rebels intercept it?"
"It would take a miracle-or a traitor on the receiving end," Iona answers, then becomes serious. "The problem is, will command reply? And if they do, will they risk rescuing us?"
Both women look to him, but the doors whooshed open before he can answer, giving him a reprieve. This time Gary is accompanied by a floating black droid with a massive egg-shaped head on top of its cylindrical body, hovering in the lift. The viper probe droid is distinctive.
The commander and Iona step out of the way, and his gaze shifts to the robot. The viper carries a long, black, rectangular case with five spindly manipulators. Gary hoists an E-Web heavy repeater, barely able to move it. Wither scowls, "A lot depends upon you, Vee."
"Beep, boop, BEEP!" The viper replies excitedly; its salutes her crudely.
"He's great!" Gary insists. "Vee explained how to recharge him quicker and pointed out this E-Web. Do you want it on the roof?"
"No, position it directly in front of the door, opposite the gate. I want it at waist height."
"What? Why?"
"The rebels will use the Ewoks as fodder during an attack, and they're short." He explains. "Create a crescent barrier in front of it, even if you have to pile dirt."
"I'll connect our comms with Vee," Iona tells him. "Then update him swiftly as I can."
"Here," the commander fishes through his utility belt. "Use this code cylinder."
"What's the code level?"
"High Imperial, from the Emperor himself," Iona's mouth drops open in disbelief. She holds the cylinder as if it's a priceless treasure. Slowly, she climbs the stairs to the office, still cradling the cylinder in both hands. "This-this could open nearly anything!"
The commander calls Gale, who swiftly crosses the room to join them. "See who can operate a heavy repeater. Inspect and test it. I want three teams, even if I have to train them."
"Yes, sir!" Gale says excitedly, gaping at the E-web. "Let me give you a hand, Gary."
Together they haul the weapon outside while the viper floats in pursuit. The commander surveys the main floor for a moment. It has changed dramatically and is now spotless with neatly arranged furniture. The troops have moved to the second floor, scrubbing walls and floors; some lose themselves in the work while others peek to see if anyone is watching.
He turns to the door and exits, immediately confronted by Gale's and Gary's ignorance of the heavy weapon. The door guards assist the pair in positioning the tripod while Gale studies the cable for the generator. They can't get the blaster to sit correctly on the tripod, and Gale can't connect the cable. Off to the side, a pair of troopers watch Dyer and the Twi'lek, who observe their work. Both guards on the gate and the walls watch their struggle with amusement.
Vee, the probe droid, beeps and motions at the parts, but everyone ignores him.
"Step aside," the commander orders after his frustration gets the better of him. He seizes the tripod, turning it to create a V oriented towards the operator. Next, he drives the feet into the ground, shifting it back and forth until it's stable. Then flawlessly slots the weapon onto the tripod and connects the cable beneath it. Lastly, he plugs the cord into the generator and initiates it. The weapon hums to life before he unleashes three blasts harmlessly into the forest.
Grinning like a fool, Gale gives him a thumbs-up after checking the generator, "Wow, that's-very impressive, sir."
"Oh yeah," Gary adds. "We don't feel inadequate at all."
"You and you," the commander points at a stormtrooper and a soldier. "You're first shift on the E-Web. Lieutenant, don't forget to rotate your troops to camouflage their armor, starting with yourself. Gary, go with and get yourself two black pauldrons, then double-time back here."
"Should I get my armor painted too?" Gary asks.
"No, then you won't draw enemy fire from me." Gary sags while lieutenant Gale laughs. "Lieutenant put on stormtrooper armor, with an orange pauldron. That black uniform provides no protection but draws sniper fire."
"Yes, sir, uhh," Gale hesitates before mentioning. "Some of the men may take it personally; I'm not a stormtrooper."
"You haven't earned it either. But you fought and survived, and I can't do this alone."
The pair head in, but before the commander can take a step, Wither calls him. "Sir, I'm sorry to involve you, but my interrogator refuses to comply. It says it's superior to medical aid."
He barely resists sighing in frustration. The commander walks across the courtyard, past the rebel and the sulking lord Dyer. The floating orb hovers above the commander's head; the single red optical lens ominously turns to him. As doctor Wither arrives, the oscillating light near the center increases speed in agitation. Its manipulator arm clicks and moves wildly as it beeps.
"I'm not arguing with you any longer," the doctor declares, motioning to the commander.
He begins neutrally, "I get this isn't your job, but survivors will need your help."
The droid floats closer in a threatening manner, "Waah, wha, WAAAH!"
Furiously, he steps back, drawing his pistol and shoving it into the droid's red eye. "I won't stand for insubordination from my troops! I certainly won't take it from a CLANKER!"
Dead silence. The courtyard freezes, watching the spectacle. The interrogator's oscillating light halts, its single manipulator arm moves up and displays its harmless. After a moment of tension, the droid sinks to his chest height and responds timidly, "Beep. Beep beep."
"Get back to work!" He snarls, sending the droid fleeing to the makeshift clinic. The commander looks around the courtyard, and his troops return to their duties. Vee trembles. Then it digs, five arms scratching frantically, building the mound around the E-Web.
"I didn't know you speak binary," Doctor Wither says breathlessly.
"I don't, but I know a threat in any language."
She smiles, "I might have misjudged you, commander. Don't disappoint me now."
"Yes, doctor," he replies. She returns to the triage with her interrogator. Together they raise lights and stabilize the operating table's legs on the uneven ground. Gary emerges from the compound with new pauldrons and a camouflaged lieutenant in stormtrooper armor. Gale complains, "This armor is uncomfortable, and it's hard to see out of the helmet."
"Did you turn on the optics?" The commander asks. Gary reaches over and turns it on.
"Yes, yes," Gale admits sheepishly. "That's much better,"
"With experience, it'll become a second skin. You won't even notice it."
"That dungeoneer armor is amazing," Gary announces. "I want some."
"It's too clunky," the commander disagrees. "At that point, I'd take heavy zero-G armor."
"You might as well use an AT-ST," Gary dismisses it with a wave of his hand.
"That's only because you haven't breached a bulkhead or heard the thump of their footsteps," the commander nods fondly. "There's nothing like sweeping a corridor with the repeater. Blaster bolts flashing harmlessly against your armor."
"That does sound amazing," Gale concedes. "I've never seen one."
"Uh, it's a big barrel with arms and legs," Gary dismisses it.
"-and rockets." The commander mentions before calling, "Doctor. Gary and I will take the prisoners for a walk; then go to the Dulok village. You and the lieutenant must make your presence felt, not through punishment, but with your determination. Your intensity is contagious, and everyone will follow your example. If they don't, threaten them to Caizor."
"I understand." The doctor nods, and Gale says, "Yes, sir."
"I have the village coordinates. It will take two hours to walk there," Gary states. Then his tone fills with humor, "Check your magazine, commander."
"Shut up, Gary," the commander snaps, then checks the charge on his magazine.
He pauses, reflecting a moment. Then the commander motions Gale and Wither closer before whispering, "Once the situation is stable, search the compound for isolated personnel. Our people are distraught, and I don't want to lose anyone else if we can avoid it."
The doctor's eyes narrow abruptly, but the lieutenant's helmet hides his expression. After a moment, the doctor says, "Good luck, sir."
"You're in charge now," he reminds her, using her rank. "Good luck, captain."
"I can't do this alone, either," Gale assures him. "Good luck, sir."
He nods, then turns to the two guards on their prisoners, "You two, get rangefinders, then reposition to the roof as lookouts."
Sitting against the wall, Hera observes her enemies. On a certain level, she's enthralled by the commander's reorganization and reestablishment of discipline. He solves problems decisively and efficiently. His confrontation with the interrogator droid serves as a warning; he can fix issues with discussion or extreme violence. Both solutions come easily as breathing to him, but not in excess or from a position of weakness.
"I have the village coordinates," the stormtrooper, Gary, tells the commander. "It will take two hours to walk there. Check your magazine, commander."
Which village? She wonders, two hours isn't a far walk, maybe eight or nine kilometers. The Dulak village isn't far, and they traded with imps before the battle. Why would he go there?
"Shut up, Gary," the commander snaps, then after an internal argument, checks the charge on his magazine. His tone is harsh, but Gary seems amused by it. A moment of whispering passes between the officers. Unfortunately, only the doctor's face is visible, and his words fill her with dismay.
"You're in charge now. Good luck, captain," his inflection surprises her. Hera knows he's reminding the doctor of her other duties besides medical. Hera can't appraise him; his tone is professional but neutral with the officers. He's sharply critical but unpredictable and witty with the enlisted. Although, at that moment, he's supportive and solemn to Wither. Who is he?
He dismisses the guards with new orders, but before speaking with the prisoners, the Viper Probe droid floats closer, "Beep beep, boop boop."
"Vee wants to know if you have a message or specific orders for him," Gary interprets.
The commander's helmet dips, but she can't tell if he is thinking or annoyed. His voice sounds tired, "Can you signal deactivated droids to power up?"
Gary interprets again, "Yes."
"Do it and carry them back if they can't travel on their own," he thinks a moment longer before adding. "Call me if you find anything special or unique."
The droid beeps confirmation, then Gary says, "Do you want to record a message?"
"Yes," the commander stands stiffly in his battered armor, and the droid signals. Sincerely, he declares, "The Empire lives."
Hera can hear the skepticism in Gary's voice, "That's it?"
"That'll do. If you find imperials, Vee, show them the message. Then, tell them where to find us." Ridiculously, the droid salutes the commander, then flies straight up.
The commander turns to face them and orders, "Get up, prisoners. It's time to go."
"Commander," Gary hands him a rebel poncho. He pulls it over his head, concealing his armor. Hera and Dyer watch him as they stand up.
"That's clone armor," Hera points out.
"You have good eyes," he replies, motioning for her to move.
Dyer begs. "Please don't kill me. I can help. I won't cause any more trouble."
"Keep moving," he spits. "My lord."
Hera can't deny the fear in her heart but restrains it. When she escapes, she'll need her mind functioning, not crippled with fear. They move through the gate slowly; Dyer drags his feet until the commander kicks him in the butt. Soon after, as they step into the woods, the only sound is Dyer's sniveling. He shuffles like a child, sobbing with each step.
"That's far enough," the commander tells them, suddenly.
It's one of the few clearings without any trees or cover. If she runs, even stormtroopers will blast her. Dyer sinks to the ground, defeated, pleading for his life. Hera's heart clenches but disgusted by Dyer's, she faces the stormtroopers. Hera glares into his black visor.
"If you're going to shoot me, you'll have to look me in the eyes."
"As you wish," he steps closer, but she stands firm. His hand brushes Dyer's pistol.
"I won't beg," she snarls defiantly.
"I know, general Syndula." With a click, he removes her binders.