Halfway to Martyrdom

Chapter Fourteen

Content Warning: blood, torture, and death appear in this chapter. It's more explicitly violent than anything else I've written for this fic. I seriously considered raising the rating to M as a result. I don't know if I'm making too big a deal, but as someone who struggles with gore myself, I want to be sensitive to readers who may have a similar issue. Without further ado...

The Scylla emerged from hyperspace just in time to catch the rebel scoundrels. After Faro's first capture of smugglers, she had freed a single Rodian on the condition he become an informant for the Empire. The next time criminals attempted to defy Imperial sanctions on the terrorist state of Lothal, Faro wanted to catch both sides of the exchange.

She hadn't needed to wait long. In the system next to her first capture, a terrorist with Lothal connections had been in the middle of selling scrapped Star Destroyer parts for medicine. When the Scylla appeared above their rendezvous moon, both terrorist and smuggler fled into their ships and took off… right into her ship's tractor beam. As Faro watched the ships struggle against their predicament, she considered how she would handle the situation.

The smugglers would face the same punishment as their predecessors. Without exposing his identity to the rest of the group, Commander Bingsley would pay their Rodian informant and release him on a nearby planet. The rest of the group would be interrogated, then imprisoned by Faro's subordinates.

As for the terrorist on the other end of the deal, Faro wanted to speak to the young man personally. After three weeks of silence from Lothal, she was curious to know how the planet was managing without a sense of order. She dared not hope for Imperial holdouts, but she would report to Tarkin if there were any.

After her first capture, Faro and Tarkin had discussed the incident at length. While it was no longer her duty to follow the Lothal situation, Tarkin had no objections to Faro pursuing smugglers within the Eleventh Fleet's area of operations so long as she did not shirk her actual mission. If smugglers happened to lead her to information about Lothal, Tarkin would consider the discovery a fortuitous coincidence. He knew Faro's drive for vengeance would be a source of fuel in the Empire's escalating war against the rebels.

"Fugitive ships secure in hangar. Extraction team in place for transport to detention. Bomb squad on standby in case of sabotage." Faro received the report on her comm.

She lifted her comm to her lips for a response. "Have the captured parties been identified, Hangarmaster?"

"Our scanner does not recognize anyone on the smuggler's ship," except the informant, though that went without saying, "but it recognizes the man from Lothal as one Mart Mattin. This man has a long history of rebel activity at Mykapo, followed by participation in the Battle of Atollon. He is a confirmed enemy combatant from the Battle of Lothal as well, though Imperial intel on his role in the battle is limited."

Every eye on the bridge turned to Faro at the revelation. Lieutenant Hammerly's face went ashen at the mention of Lothal. His superior, Lieutenant Lindan, bit her lip in apprehension. Bingsley kept his expression blank as he took cues from his commander.

Faro's chest pounded. Rage burned over where her heart should be. She kept her voice cool and clipped despite these sensations. "Secure each individual in separate cells. Prepare the rebel Mattin for first interrogation. I will oversee engagements with the rebel myself."

"Yes, ma'am." Lieutenant Oro ended the call. Unlike Faro's previous hangarmaster, Lieutenant Oro kept the hangar organized with minimal idiosyncrasy.

Faro put her comm away, then turned to Bingsley. "You have your duties, Commander. Return the Scylla to the rest of the fleet when they are complete. We drill first thing tomorrow as scheduled."

In place of nodding, Bingsley jut his chin forward. His neck rolls jiggled from the move. "Yes, ma'am."

"Do you require backup in your interrogation of the rebel, Fleet Admiral?" Hammerly asked Faro before she could leave.

Faro examined the younger officer. His eyes smoldered with the same anger she felt. The motivation behind Hammerly's question was clear; he wanted to volunteer himself for the job. Anything to get back at the rebels who had murdered his aunt.

Tempted as Faro was to share in her misery, her need to protect her crew from future scrutiny was stronger. She shook her head. "That will not be necessary, Lieutenant. You have a job to perform on the bridge. I shall make the relevant details of my time with the rebel public upon conclusion of the interrogation. We will share our knowledge with the rest of the Imperial Fleet regarding how best to enforce sanctions on renegade territories."

Hands behind her back, Faro left the bridge in the hands of her third officer. Bingsley departed soon after her, but Faro's pace did not allow them to walk to the detention block together. Faro was not comfortable confiding in her first officer yet. Not in the way she once received confidence, at least.

Faro's knuckles pressed against the small of her back. Perhaps her current arrangement with Bingsley was more appropriate, by Imperial standards. Faro knew what the Empire expected of its leadership. Leaders carried the exclusive responsibility of making hard choices and bore all the consequences thereof. In exchange, subordinates were free to focus all energy on their assigned duties without concern for the ship's overarching trajectory. As the admiral of this fleet, it fell to Faro to handle the Scylla's riskiest business.

That's all Faro's trip to the brig was. Business. Any wicked thrill Far felt in her spine was a distraction at best. This interrogation wasn't about any particular person. Not her, not Mattin, not Hammerly… not anyone. Thrawn's presence could not be further from Faro's ship than it was in that moment.

She bristled. Weeks had passed, and it still hurt to think of him.

Hands still rigid behind her back, Faro turned her head to the side of the lift. It had been ages since she last led an interrogation. Should she start by powering up an interrogation droid or keep it in reserve? Would this Mattin fellow respond better to coercion or persuasion? Perhaps Faro should establish a baseline before diving into her interrogation in earnest.

A wiser admiral would have waited for the interrogation to begin. Let the rebel stew in his cell before introducing herself. In Faro's experience, however, waiting often gave rebels time to escape. Instead of switching the metaphorical stove on, Faro sent instructions to her troopers to restrain the terrorist on an interrogation table upon his arrival in a cell.

When she entered the brig, she asked the three troopers who arrested Mattin for a status report. She relished in the details they provided her. "The rebel scum is as defiant as any. He insists his friends are coming and cursed us with every word he knows as we strapped him to the table."

"Idle threats." No one had time to call for help on Faro's watch, nor would the Scylla remain in the system long enough for any to arrive. Besides, if the rebel really had rescuers en route, he wouldn't have revealed them to his captives. The tactics of terrorists like Mattin were all too familiar to Faro. "Did you leave the interrogation droid off for the time being?"

"Off and out of sight of the prisoner. Be careful; it hasn't seen maintenance in a while. Some parts are loose."

"I acknowledge your warning. Anything else?"

"The room is as you requested it, ma'am."

"Thank you, trooper. Leave a pair outside to stand guard in the hall. I will handle the interrogation myself."

"Yes, ma'am. I leave UR-128 and IS-764 at your service." A trio of salutes, which Faro returned.

She sauntered into the prisoner's cell. Cold air pricked her neck as the door slid shut behind her, cutting through her heated clarity for a second. Only a second.

Faro was alone in that cell. She had no one from the Empire around to keep her emotions in check. No loved ones to keep the hardness out of her heart.

She let a fresh sense of resolve creep over her. It was the most energy she'd felt in weeks. Her brown eyes narrowed at the sight of human scum on her table. Her lips curled in a sneer.

Faro had no personal history with Mattin, but his thick black hair and short, lanky build brought a different rebel to mind. Yet for all their resemblance, this rebel had dark eyes and an unmarked face. He wasn't the terrorist Faro most wanted to capture, but perhaps he would do in the moment.

Despite not seeing it, the rebel returned Faro's sneer with his own. "Let me go! The people of Lothal need this medicine. Innocent people are dying because of your insane trade restrictions."

His plea did nothing to her. "Lothal had plenty of medicine when it was a member of the Empire. Perhaps you should have considered the people's welfare before launching a violent coup."

"We fought back against your rule because we care about the people of Lothal. We're not the ones keeping life saving drugs out of their hospitals. What kind of heartless bitch breaks up a medical sale?" Mattin squinted at Faro in the dark room. He lay in the middle of the cell's only light source, leaving Faro coated in shadow.

She may step into the light soon, but not yet. "The Imperial Senate has already offered humanitarian aid in exchange for the peaceful return of Imperial rule to Lothal. It is not the Empire's fault your rebellion refuses to accept our offer." She cocked her head. "Has Lothal enjoyed its state of anarchy?"

"If we accepted your 'help,' we'd be right back where we started. We don't rebel for fun, you know." Mattin craned his neck to get a good look at Faro. "Who are you, anyway?"

"Fleet Admiral Faro, commander of this vessel. You, Mr. Mattin, have no need for introduction." Faro stepped forward, allowing her features to become visible. "The Empire knows who you are."

Mattin's eyes landed on Faro. He huffed his lack of impression. "You're an admiral? I've never heard of you."

"Then your ignorance betrays you." Faro wasn't here to give information. Only extract it. "Tell me more about your meeting with the smugglers."

"Lothal is doing fine without the Empire. We killed Governor Pryce and every stormtrooper you kept on the planet to harass us. Your Empire sent an entire fleet of ships to bombard us, and we came out on top. We were preparing for a second wave when you announced a trade embargo. Pryce's regime never kept more than a few weeks' worth of supplies on-world. She wanted to keep Lothal dependent."

All information Faro already knew. This wasn't going to be easy, was it? "In war, it's not always combat that kills. It's the small attritions of disruption and shortage that wear planets down."

"So that's your plan? You can't beat us in a real fight, so you're gonna leave civilians to die without medicine?"

She feigned consideration. "What sort of medicine were you attempting to acquire? How dire is the need?"

"You have our ships. You know what I was trying to buy." True, if unhelpful. "My purchase was going to be a drop in the bucket. Lothal's hospitals were pushed to the brim healing bombardment victims. Now people with chronic illnesses can't get treatment."

Faro couldn't let herself be softened by these pleas. If the rebellion couldn't take care of people they occupied by force, they never should have taken over in the first place. If Lothal's people knew what was good for them, they would stage a counterinsurgency and return to the Empire's fold. "How have civilians reacted to the news?"

"They blame the Empire. As they should! We wouldn't be in this mess if you let us trade with other systems. Why do you think I'm all the way out here arranging deals?"

"Your smuggling attempt occurred in Imperial territory. If Lothal wants to live independently of the Empire's laws, their independence comes at a price." Faro kept her voice cold. "If the people of Lothal haven't realized the dangers of anarchy yet, I hope they do soon. For their own sake."

The rebel strained against his interrogation table. "Your threats mean nothing to us. The rebellion isn't stopping at Lothal. We've taken one admiral's fleet out already. We'll take yours next!"

"Really?" Disdain slipped into Faro's voice, masking the tension she felt at the mention of her old fleet. She dropped out of Mattin's line of sight to fondle the interrogation droid. "What's the rebellion planning next?"

"Maybe we'll call the purrgil on your fleet." Faro's grip tensed over the droid's mechanical arm. The rebel didn't notice. "One minute, all your ships are in formation above an oppressed planet. The next minute, they're overtaken by giant spacewhales. Always a bigger fish, as they say."

"Do you really think that trick will work on more than one admiral?"

"Unlike you, people had actually heard of Grand Admiral Thrawn when he died. People called him an evil genius, and he fell at the hands of the rebellion. What chance do you have?"

Decorum flew out the air vent at the sound of Thrawn's name. Faro didn't bother turning the interrogation droid on. She ripped one of the machine's blades out of its socket, veins protruding in her grip on the handle. The sterile white of the cell's light turned red at its edges.

This time, Mattin heard Faro's activity behind him. "What are you doing? Getting ready to torture me?" He struggled to face her, his tone low in either desperation or threat. "It won't save you."

Faro didn't respond right away. She waited for the moment when her tone could surpass the rebel's in menace. "You can't threaten the Empire with purrgil anymore. If your rebellion could replace its inferior fleet with some beasts, why haven't you attacked elsewhere already? I'll tell you; it's because your purrgil-summoner, Ezra Bridger, is dead. He killed himself so that the people of Lothal could starve."

"You're wrong. Ezra didn't summon the purrgil to Lothal. I did."

The scene changed in a flash. One minute, Faro was standing behind the rebel with a long scalpel in hand. The next, she hung over his head, choking him with a fist to his windpipe. The droid's blade left a thin, delicate scratch on the side of his neck. She hadn't broken skin yet, but the threat was present.

"Say that again," she dared him. When Mattin coughed in response, she shifted her hand on his neck. No more pressure from her fist, but the metal of the blade still tickled beneath the chin. "Say that again."

"Ezra told me how to summon the purrgil. I'm the one who actually did it. And I'll do it again and again if that's what it takes to free the galaxy from evil like you!"

Faro cut the terrorist's skin for that remark. But not at his throat. That would have let the scum off too early. Instead, she tore across Mattin's right cheek. Since this man wanted to be Bridger so badly, Faro would help him get there.

Mattin hissed in pain. He remained defiant. "Wrong cheek. Ezra's scar is on his left."

Faro accepted the correction, tearing a longer, deeper scar across Mattin's left cheek. Blood dripped off his face and onto the interrogation table. The rebel now wore the whiskers of a feral Lothcat. She aspired to strip the scum of his vanity. His boastfulness in describing the slaughter of her crew.

She waited for another smart comment to leave the rebel's lips. Instead, the room filled with the sound of heavy breathing. Heavy breathing broken only by the occasional drip.

They'd gotten off track in this interrogation. Time for Faro to get back to work. She rubbed the blade's stains off on the rebel's shirt collar. "Tell me more about this purrgil trick."

"The rebellion has an alliance with the purrgil. Any time we call them, they arrive. When they came to Lothal, Ezra and I convinced the purrgil to help us fight the Star Destroyers."

"How do you communicate with the beasts? Did you train them?"

The rebel had the gall to laugh. "No training. They just hate the Empire."

Just like that, the pointed end of the blade was back at Mattin's neck. "Answer the question. How do you communicate with the purrgil?"

"We… called them on the radio."

"Don't play with me." Faro nicked the rebel on the chin. "Purrgil don't speak human language."

"It's true. I called them on the radio, and they came. We have a special frequency."

Faro grunted. Purrgil calls did travel the cosmos as radio waves. Had the rebels lined up their radio frequency with purrgil calls? Certain domesticated pets came to their owners upon hearing a whistle. Perhaps the rebellion had trained purrgil with the same method.

How would the Empire distinguish between trained purrgil and wild ones? Would they have to hunt every purrgil in the galaxy to keep their fleets safe? Faro had to make sure a tragedy like this never took place again. "How did you coordinate an attack with them before the battle?"

"I… can't tell you that."

"Really now?" Faro leaned in over her prisoner, voice barely above a whisper. Her movements were eerily fluid, like a droid running its protocol. "I thought you were the purrgil king. If you want to destroy my ship so badly, why don't you summon your friends now?"

"They'll come for me! The rebellion will find me and stop you."

Faro paused. She felt the tiniest shift beneath her feet. A shift only people long accustomed to working on a Star Destroyer would notice. The Scylla had entered hyperspace. She smirked. "Good luck with that."

Faro only had a few hours left with her prisoner. Once the Scylla regrouped with the rest of the fleet, the prisoners would be transferred off ship. She had to make her moments count with the man who'd killed so many. This rebel scum was the reason Faro felt like a shell every morning, and he didn't even know who she was. Here, Faro had an opportunity she may never receive again.

"I'm serious. Do you know how many prison escape missions I've been a part of? You might think you have me trapped, but it won't last."

"I won't let that happen. You think you can escape after confessing to the slaughter of an entire fleet?" Faro lifted her blade, letting its stained metal catch the light. "You will never see a life free of stun cuffs. The Empire will execute you."

Mattin shook his head. "Every day the Empire reigns is a day I'm not free. You can't keep me down much longer."

"Is that so?"

The rebel spat in Faro's face. "The rebellion will end your fleet, just like we ended the one over Lothal. Your fate will be the same as Thrawn's-"

They lunged at the same time. Mattin jerked his body towards Faro with all his weight, trying to overturn the investigation table. At the same time, Faro's knife came down on the rebel's neck, stabbing dead through the carotid artery. Blood joined spit in covering Faro's face. The sticky hot liquid burned through her mask, breaking the last pieces of her facade to bits.

The rebel convulsed on the table, blood covering the cell when she ripped the knife away. It was a quick, messy death, one full of choking. A fate better than the scum deserved.

"Gah!" She threw the blade to the ground, disgusted.

Faro regretted losing her temper. She had wanted to hold him prisoner longer, make him feel the pain she wore every day. She wanted to hand him off to the warden with none of his confidence intact. How would Faro explain this to her crew? She'd promised them information on the bridge. What would her officers say about her losing her restraint like this?

She wiped the blood off her face with a hand, then rubbed it onto the dead man's clothes. Thoughts traveling fast as her ship, Faro invented a plan on the fly. She retrieved the blade. First, Faro cut the bonds restraining one of Mattin's wrists. She moved the droid closer to the interrogation table, making it look like she had been using it during the interrogation. The arm missing its blade was closest to Mattin's right hand.

When Faro invited the troopers into the cell, she would tell them she had been mid-interrogation when the rebel grabbed the droid's blade. He had pulled it out, cut his restraint, and attempted to harm her. Faro took the knife from him, cut his face in her attempts to restrain him, and delivered the killing blow during their struggle. It was her fault for attempting to interrogate a dangerous rebel without backup.

Mart Mattin had been responsible for the death of thousands of Imperial soldiers. It may not have been Faro's place to execute him, but his death had been inevitable. Death was inevitable for all terrorists who fought against the Empire.

War wasn't pretty. Vengeance wasn't cheap, and neither was victory.

A/N's: This chapter may seem like a disconnected interlude right now, but I promise it's important later. It was just... hard for me to write. I love Faro, and I hate seeing her this way. I promise it's all part of a greater story arc.

However it may seem, I don't dislike Mart Mattin as a character. He's okay in my book. His taunts seem cruel here, but it's important to note he doesn't know who Faro is. He has no idea she ever knew Thrawn personally. I chose him here for his role in the Rebels finale and his physical resemblance to Ezra. I know Mattin lives longer than this in canon, but I have accepted that my fic is not wholly canon compliant.

But yeah. Great chapter to return to fanfic writing with. I hope y'all like it. I'm gonna go watch more kitten videos.