"You'll be alright, woncha Drakken?" Freya asked softly, sitting beside the wounded man. Tharcourt sat on the floor of the shuttle, leaned back against the large crate of blasters and equipment they had taken from the rebel base before departing. His right arm was draped over the box as if protecting it, and he slowly turned his head to Freya and breathed a shallow sigh.
"I'll live." He managed a small smile. She looked him over again. He had been stripped from the waist up, Dall treating what the blaster impacts had managed to inflict. Drakken's left hand was bandaged up, and his back was covered in blood from the shrapnel that had torn into his flesh. A burn on his chest indicated the spot where another bolt had semi-penetrated his breastplate. Thorne gently traced her index finger along another, older burn scar on the other side of his torso, then jerked her hand away, feeling a little ashamed. "Mimban." He said tiredly. She gave a sad smile and nodded.
"How's the leg, darlin'?" Freya asked. He slightly bent his wrapped-up left leg and winced, his teeth clamped together.
"Ugh…" Drakken groaned. "Be alright in a few days, I guess. Don't think I'll be dancing the night away until then, my dear."
"You'll be alright…" Corporal Dall advised. "When we get back aboard ship and you take a long soak in a bacta tank, sir." The medic knelt down with a syringe, and Tharcourt started to protest. Dall gave him a cross look and he sighed in defeat. Dall administered a healthy dose of painkillers and antibiotics.
"I haven't got time for that self-indulgent bantha sh…" Freya gave him a light slap in the back of the head.
"Thank you, ma'am." Dall said. "That wound on your back needs onboard treatment, commander. You got peppered with frag from your own armor. You have exhaustion. You cracked a rib, and somehow…somehow, commander, you managed to get concussion damage, localized entirely on your left hand."
"That it, doc?" He asked cynically.
Oh, not at all. Your leg needs a bacta bath, or it's going to go septic and fall off. Hey, you want to be able to base-delta-zero an entire company of rebels again, you'd better hang onto all your appendages."
"I'll go to medical after debriefing." He returned sourly, and held his right hand to his face as the painkillers began to kick in. "You know Vader's rule."
"Dunna be diteit. Yer not goin' t' debriefin' alf necked, jaked on narcos an' covered in claret." Freya argued. "I'll go in yer stead."
"You sure?"
"Aye. No worries, Drakken. I'll gie th' report, an' uh…" She gently pat the crate. "I'll gie it in the proper manner. All th' pretty lil' details wot needs be told." She smiled. "Then I'll come down an' visit ye in medical." He took longer than usual to process her words, and grunted at the annoying sensation of being loopy on the medication.
"Alright." He sighed. "Just…you know, be careful. And make sure Lord Vader knows I'd be there if I hadn't gotten scuffed up down there."
They landed in the enormous docking bay of The Executor, and Tharcourt was quickly taken to a nearby medical bay for treatment. Thorne began making her way to the bridge of the destroyer, thinking about the events of the last few hours. She felt a knot in her stomach again. Drakken had almost died. She had come within a micron of seeing the man she loved more than anything get obliterated on some planet she'd never heard of until today. She had saved him, but what if she hadn't?
It didn't sit right with her. Up until now, every mission they had gone on seemed to have a purpose. Maybe she didn't always understand that purpose, but if they were sent to do a job, she had always trusted that it was necessary, crucial…strategic in some way. Now, she wasn't so sure. Killing the enemy was the fastest way to win a war, but it almost felt like Drakken's team was being used as an indiscriminate killing machine; being sent anywhere there were rebels, whether or not their actions would have any effect on the war at all. That was not the purpose of a unit like Delta-7.
Nor was their purpose to be sent around the galaxy, almost getting killed just to find a couple of rebel pilots over a grudge. That seemed gratuitous beyond words. Freya didn't know this Skywalker chap, but was sure that there was no way one man could be important enough to warrant so much attention while there was a full-fledged war going on in the galaxy. He blew up that Death Star. Big deal. It was a lucky shot, from what she heard from Gallen and Ekks. It's not like he was the keeper of some secret weapon that could destroy the whole empire, after all…
She arrived at the hatch to the bridge and used her code cylinder to gain entry. Freya had been so lost in thought throughout her journey in the expansive ship, that she hadn't noticed the stares from nearly everyone she passed. Once she walked onto the bridge, she suddenly became aware of the crewmen in the pits sending curious, shocked, and downright terrified expressions her way. She only then realized that she was still wearing her breastplate, helmet and utility belt, and that she was covered in grime and had spatters of blood on her clothing.
"Lieutenant…Thorne?" Piett greeted with a surprised inflection in his tone. He looked her up and down. "Fresh from the field, I see. That rebel base will not be a bother anymore either. I've seen to that personally." He then looked around. "Where's Drakken?" Thorne huffed a sigh.
"Och. He's doon in medical, Captain. Right nasty couple a' hits."
"What? Drakken?! Is he…"
"He'll be alright, I think." She assured Firmus. "Complained all th' way back. That's generally a good sign with 'im." Piett gave an amused scoff.
"That man? Surprised he didn't damage the ship with his profanity." He remarked, and the captain's smile dropped. "How did it happen, Thorne?"
"Those rebels…" She began in a low voice. "…they were a cut above, captain. Some special unit like airs. They well could actually shoot, an' didn't run." She shook her head. "We barely made it out, I think. Drakken must a' killed ten or twelve by hisself afore they managed tae knock 'im down." Piett smiled.
"That is his style, after all." Firmus said. "Let me guess, you saved him at the last possible moment…" He rolled his eyes as if in thought. "…killing a platoon of armed insurgents singlehandedly in the process." Freya blinked repeatedly.
"Now how did ye go an' find all that out, captain?" She asked in genuine confusion.
"Oh. Well. I was spot on then." Firmus said with raised eyebrows. "Call it a hunch, I suppose." He placed a hand on the tall woman's shoulder and gave her a nod. "I know the two of you would move systems for one another. Thank you for bringing him back, Thorne. I mean that." She smiled, and Piett cleared his throat. "I suppose you came for a debriefing then."
"Aye. Suppose it's my responsibility at the moment." She answered. "I should report to Laird Vader as soon as possible."
"Right. He is in his chamber." He saw her apprehensive look. "If you'd like, I'll accompany you, my dear."
"That…that would be great, captain." She sighed, relieved. They began to leave the bridge, when Admiral Ozzel happened by and saw them exiting.
"Captain Piett…where do you think you're going?" He demanded. Piett turned and offered a salute to the Admiral.
"Sir, Delta-7 has returned from their mission. I must accompany Lieutenant Thorne to Lord Vader's quarters for debriefing." Ozzel now turned his attention to Freya. He started to speak, but froze, an index finger upturned as he regarded her appearance.
"My stars, lieutenant…" He gasped. "You look terrible! I can assume you were in the thick of it?" Piett decided to put the overbearing Ozzel in his place.
"Early reports say Thorne killed at least a dozen rebels in close combat, sir." Firmus stated. "That is…by her hand alone. I am attempting to get an accurate count of Delta-7's numbers as a whole." Ozzel moved his mouth silently for a moment.
"Wh…wha…and you are a what…a Mandalorian was it?" He stumbled. "A dozen…I tell you…" He nodded to Piett. "Carry on, captain." The admiral turned and walked away, mumbling: "Mandalorians…by the void…"
Freya and Piett arrived outside of a hatch one level down from the bridge and the captain pressed a button on the panel. The door slid open, and they stepped inside. Immediately, Freya shivered a little at the cold feeling in the air. The dimness of the room didn't help to improve the threatening ambiance. As they walked further into the room, toward the large, spherical object in the center of the space, Freya realized that she had been staring at Lord Vader's chamber the entire time.
"Lieutenant," Piett advised in a low voice. "You may do well to turn your back to Lord Vader's meditation chamber. He is um…rather private about visitors here."
"Oh…oh of course." Thorne stammered breathlessly. She turned, facing a wall, but still standing at attention.
"Lord Vader?" Piett called respectfully. "Sir? Do you wish to debrief Delta-7 about this mission?" There was a tense silence, broken only when the sphere began to open along its equator. Firmus averted his eyes as a long metal arm placed a black helmet on a scarred and disfigured head. There was a hiss as the helmet locked into place, and a slight thunk as the top of the chamber reached its apex and stopped. The low seat the black-clad figure sat atop turned toward the captain.
"Captain Piett." Vader greeted in his low, mechanical voice. "I trust you are interrupting me to bring news of the destruction of the rebel base."
"I am, my lord." Piett answered stoically. "The base and surrounding area have been completely sanitized by orbital bombardment."
"And my team?" Vader inquired. "Was their mission…successful?"
"It was, my lord." Piett replied. "Lieutenant Thorne has accompanied me to give you the details of the operation." Lord Vader turned his head slightly to regard the young woman for a few silent moments.
"Lieutenant." He finally said. "Face me." She turned about and snapped her heels together, saluting the armored being. "Where is Commander Tharcourt, lieutenant?"
"He was wounded during the mission, milaird." She answered dutifully. "C'mander Tharcourt was taken t' medical jes after we came back, sir." Another brief silence.
"I trust his injuries were not…mortal?"
"Enough tae put 'im out of commission for a few days, milaird. He'll be alright after a long soak in bacta." Vader stared at her, and she winced. "Sir."
"Very well. Tell me then…the details of the operation, lieutenant." He commanded. "Including how the commander was wounded."
"Aye sir." She began to tick off everything she remembered about the mission in chronological order. She began with their initial approach to the facility, the assault on the building, finding the armory, and she reported the information they had gathered on the enemy special forces unit. She then described their trek through the woods, being stalked by the rebel unit, and the battle among the rocks. When she described Drakken's lone stand against the Pathfinders, Vader's head cocked slightly to the side, and when Freya spoke of how she deployed the team, sent for the ship and rescued Tharcourt with only a sniper for backup, Vader slowly stood from his seat. Thorne, a little nervous, ended the report with a short statement about Drakken's wounds, and left out any mention of the box of equipment they had seized.
"You went back into an area…held by the enemy to rescue the commander." Vader said. It was obviously a statement and not a question.
"Aye sir." She answered.
"And in doing so, you not only rescued Tharcourt, but eliminated most of the remaining rebels." Vader added. "Completing the mission you were sent to accomplish." He was now in front of Freya, and she swallowed hard. "Tell me…why did Commander Tharcourt choose to retreat to the ship instead of fighting the rebels?"
"I…melaird…"
"I asked you a question, lieutenant." Vader said impatiently. She took a deep breath.
"I cannae speak fer another person, melaird. Not e'en Drakken. All I can say is that if we had doon battle nae anywhere else than in them fair rocks, we'd 'ave been wiped out. I don't think 'e ran, milaird. I think he jes ran somewhere we 'ad a better chance a' winnin' from."
"You believe he had a plan."
"I ne'er known the man to not have a plan, or t' be able tae think one up in a pinch, sir." Thorne said. "He's not stupid, especially in battle."
"That we may agree on." Vader stated. "You said that these rebels you encountered were better soldiers than what your team has…encountered before."
"Aye, yessir. They had better blasters, and either mair training' or experience. Weren't a bunch a' scaffies and nuggets wot run when ye shoot at em like some of the rebs we've been merkin'. Nae, these fellows were right good at their business. All fair shots, and hard tae hit…when ye could see them." Vader again silently stared at her, and Freya couldn't tell whether he was thinking about this new information, trying to figure out what she had just said, or if he were angry with her. She convinced herself that it was likely a combination of all three.
"I see." He finally said. "Then you are free to go, Lieutenant Thorne. You may submit your written report while your commander mends from his injuries. Captain Piett."
"Yes, milord?" He stepped forward.
"You will inform me when our commander is well enough. I would like to speak with him personally."
"As you wish, my lord." PIett nodded. Vader stepped back into the large sphere and it began to slowly close about him. Firmus nodded to Freya, and they left the room. Once in the hall again, the door closed behind them, and Thorne let out a relieved sigh that the ordeal was finally over. Firmus huffed, and gave her a knowing look.
"You probably saved his life there, you know?" He said in a low voice. "If Lord Vader thought for a moment that Drakken had turned coward and ran…" He shook his head. "I likely would be giving the order for his execution right now." Thorne shivered. "I think you're right though. He always planned on his feet." They began to walk down the corridor. "So that's twice today you put your head on the chopping block for the man." He scoffed a little. "I've done it too, don't worry."
"Aye. We got that in common, me captain." Thorne quipped. "We're both fond a' Drakken."
"In two different ways, Thorne." Piett smiled. He raised his eyebrows momentarily toward her.
"Could ye do it, Firmus?" She asked. He cocked his head questioningly. "Sign his death warrant?" Piett looked down at the deck as he walked.
"Yes…I would have to…" He admitted. "I think it would be my last act in the Navy though…if you didn't count my resignation." He stopped, and Freya halted beside him as he turned to her. "You know, he was quite good at thinking on his feet before I got him as an ensign. I think it was the war. I used to give him these problems, these impossible situations to work out, just to see if he could do it. You want one to think on?"
"Uh…sure." She replied.
"A man is in a spot, and only has two options. Both are the absolute right thing to do. The problem is that both will more than likely lead to his death...no matter which one he chooses. What does he do?" Piett shook his head satisfactorily. "Go on, Freya. I know you're probably anxious to go see him. Best not let me keep you any longer." He offered a friendly smile and held out a hand. She took it in a shake. "Give him by best wishes.
"I will." Thorne said, and left to find the medical bay Drakken had been taken to.
Freya was led to a bank of bacta tanks by the doctor on duty. He pointed out one of the large cylinders on the end of the row in the room, and she made her way over to the tank. She stood in front of the container, and felt saddened seeing Drakken floating unconscious in the blue substance. She knew he was going to be fine in a day or two, but Freya couldn't help but worry about him. She placed a hand on the glass.
"Drakken…" She whispered. "I'm sorry I didn't come back sooner." She felt a tear roll down her cheek. "Ye get better, me love." Freya huffed a sigh and placed her forehead against the bacta tank.
"Oh my gosh." A familiar voice said from behind her. Thorne straightened her back. "I like, came as soon as I heard, you know? He's alright, isn't he?" Freya growled to herself, and put on a civil face. She turned to see Agent Veruna standing there, gazing with a look of concern at the man in the bacta tank.
"Aye. He's going to be okay." Thorne said. "He got hit a couple times…" She shook her head. "Three or four…"
"Damn…" Veruna remarked. "You guys must've been totally in it during this job."
"Totally." Thorne shot back mockingly, rolling her eyes. Zala smirked.
"Aw sweety, I know you gotta be stressed to the max, but you don't have to be in a bad mood." She said. Freya realized that she was clenching her teeth. She still didn't exactly like Veruna, and having the woman inexplicably standing before her at such a vulnerable moment was irritating beyond words. Freya looked her up and down. Veruna was wearing her white ISB tunic, but those skin-tight black pants and equally close-fitting high-heeled boots gave the entire uniform a scandalous appearance. This only made Freya reflect on her own non-traditional uniform, and how revealing that must seem to many people, and this only made her more annoyed.
"What are ye doin' here…" Thorne asked, then remembered that Veruna outranked her. "Uh…ma'am?" Zala giggled and bit her lower lip.
"I like, came to check on Drakken, sweetie. Duh. It's not like I just hang around the medical bays."
"No, I mean what are ye doing on this ship?" Thorne clarified.
"Oh. That." Veruna said. Her eyes shot from side to side. "I was just reassigned to The Executor by somebody way upstairs. I'd hoped to surprise Drakken with it when he got back from your mission, but…" She sighed. "That'll have to wait, I guess." She gave Freya a little smile. "Wanna go get a drink?"
"I'm filthy." Thorne answered. Zala gave her a once-over.
"Oh, you look pretty nice to me." She countered.
"And I'm on duty." Thorne grumbled.
"Pshh. You guys are like me; you're on the clock permanently, but you're like only technically on duty when you're in the field. We can take off for one little drink." Zala gave Freya a little hug, and Freya tensed up a bit. "You know, we haven't really had time to get to know one another."
"Yer ISB, Major Veruna…" Thorne said suspiciously. "I got a wee inklin' that ye know more aboot me than I e'er could aboot ye." Zala laughed.
"Oh stars, Drakken said the exact same thing to me."
"I can imagine." Freya sighed. "A'right. Ein wee drink."
They sat in the officer's club, at a small table in the corner of the room. Thorne looked about the club. She had never been in the shipboard establishment before, and she noted the clean lines and sterile fixtures of the place. Everything seemed so clean and efficient here. The cantina was very much unlike the places she'd patronized lately, and very different from the drinking halls back home. It almost seemed…too nice to have a session in.
"So…" She began, watching Veruna gently roll her index finger along the rim of her glass. "What brings you to this big ol' ship then, Major Veruna?"
"Oh please…" Zala returned with a wave. "Call me Zala, honey. You don't answer to me…well directly. We're just two super cute girlfriends hanging out." Thorne scowled. Part of her wanted to comment on how Zala was not in any way her girlfriend, but she knew better. "How are you two doing? The stubborn thing did take my advice, from what I know."
"Your advice?!" Freya exclaimed.
"Totes. I told him to stop acting like a stellar idiot and tell you how he felt. The whole we're not a thing, but we're totally a thing was kind of annoying. Between us, sweetie…he has some major issues he needs to work out, and needs a girl like you." Veruna gave her a smile.
"Oh…well…thanks, Zala."
"Ah…don't mention it." The ISB agent returned. Thorne took a long drink of her beer. It was too weak and fancy for her tastes. "Drakken…man, I was really hoping I could score that hot slice of…" Thorne coughed, spurting the watery beer from her nose. Zala slid some napkins across the table.
"You what?!"
"Chill out, cutie pie. I seriously didn't know you two really weren't friend-zoned. Once I found that out, I was like nuh-uh, not playing that game with that girl. I wasn't gonna get between you two, so I pushed him into you and walked." Zala shrugged and took a drink of her colorful cocktail. "Glad it worked out between you two." Freya saw a glimpse of longing in Veruna's russet eyes as the woman looked deeply into her glass. Freya found herself feeling a little sorry for her. It was obvious that Zala had feelings for Drakken, and despite how Thorne felt about the ISB major, she couldn't blame her for how she felt, and knew how painful rejection could be.
"Chin up, Zala…" She offered. "Ye done a sweet thing fer Drakken and me. It'll come back to ya in good time. That's wot me mum always said." Zala gave a half-smile.
"Sure." She said, sounding unconvinced. "So, speaking of the man of the hour, how did he get himself that messed up? I've seen him work and Drakken is totally a force of nature."
"Yer not bloody kidding!" Freya agreed vehemently. "We got intae one 'ell of a row. Drakken got pinned doon by a dozen or so rebs. Got a load of 'em afore they skelped him. I went against his orders an' we got him out. It was well close though." She made a pained face. "Too close." Freya took a drink of her beer. "We discovered some new rebel special forces unit down there."
"Another one?" Veruna remarked off-handedly.
"Wot? You wot?"
"Intelligence knew the rebels had a special forces unit down there. We didn't like, know much about them, but thought they might be using that world as a you know, staging facility. Were there two units?"
"No." Thorne said grimly. "Not that I know a'. How come we weren't told the rebs 'ad some secret team of commandos?! That'd been some first-rate knowledge tae 'ave had!"
"They didn't tell you?" Zala gasped. "I thought that's why your team got sent there…to take out that specops team before they could be used in combat. Why would…" She frowned.
"Ye know somethin', don't you?" Thorne whispered. Zala leaned over the table.
"No, not exactly, but like…there are only two reason why they'd send you against a cell like that and not tell you what they're capable of. Either somebody wanted you all to get spaced, or it was a test."
"A test? What the lovin' feck ye talkin' about a test?"
"Okay, I was at the meeting where we were discussing this new program the rebels have, alright? Somebody like brought up a question…do we think our own special units are a match for them in the field? It came up, you know? What if we ran across one of these rebel groups on a mission, would they be able to beat us." Veruna shook her head. "I think they let you walk into that place stupid, just to see what would happen."
"Neu, yer talkin' havers." Freya breathed. "They'd no send us in t' get merked…" She remembered a talk she and Drakken had while they were away on leave, about how they were disposable in the end, and her heart skipped a beat. "They were willin' t' kill us all just to see how good the rebels were." She said.
"We're all just expendable assets." Veruna sighed. "Kinda blows, huh?" Freya leaned in close.
"Drakken's not expendable." She growled. "An me and the rest o' the lads aren't either."
"You and him are a lot alike." Zala said with a weak nod. "Careful what you say and who you say it to, sweetie…more ears than mine on you guys these days." Freya understood the meaning of her warning, and slowly backed across the table.
"Right." She muttered. "Getting awful dangerous to be doing anything anymore." She added with a grumpy snarl.
"Now you're getting it." Zala said.
"What I'm getting is late." Freya returned. "I ought to be getting' back to me crew."
"Yeah, like without an officer there, it's hard to say what those guys are doing." Veruna agreed with a grin. "Wonder if Ekks is cheating at Sabacc again. And that Gallen…that man is like majorly lazy. Good taste in music though." Thorne was standing, and she paused.
"Wait…how did you…" She began. Zala winked at her. "Ugh. Should be a wee bit glad it's ye a spyin' on us. I'm off, Veruna."
"See you later, Freya." Zala bid with a sly grin.
Thorne entered the quarters of Delta-7, and halted at the sight before her in the room. Most of the team were in the process of carefully inspecting their black armor, holding it up and turning it about. She was about to ask what they were doing when Lago saw her. He hurried over, holding his breastplate like it was some rare treasure.
"Ma'am…you gotta see this." He stated. He held the armor up to her, and at first, Freya saw nothing. Then, as the young stormtrooper turned it just right, the overhead lights caught on a dim scuff on the right chest of the breastplate. "Guess I took a hit and didn't even know it. There's another mark on the back plate. Gee, this new armor can really take a beating, can't it ma'am?"
"Aye…I guess it can." She replied, her mouth feeling a little dry.
"How's the commander?" Felian asked, buffing out a spot on his helmet.
"He's in bacta. Should be out in a day or two." She said. "Who else got hit?"
"We all did, ma'am." Gallen answered, sounding less enthused than Lago had been. "I felt the one to the brain bucket, but I didn't even know I got hit in the back. Too close…" She looked about the room.
"Two to the chest." Mets stated proudly.
"I'm not bragging, but I got three." Ekks added.
"Enough…" Thorne said, her tone silencing everyone. "I mean…sorry. That'll do. You lot uh…try an' polish up yer armor. I 'ave a ton a' paperwork t' do." With that, she quickly entered the office. Freya locked the hatch and fell back into her chair. She breathed a few times, trying to remain calm.
Everyone in the unit had been hit by enemy fire. Everyone but her. She processed that. If they hadn't been wearing the new upgraded stuff, they'd all have probably carked it. The lot of them were outside the door, joking about it and boasting about how many hits they had taken…like it was some game. They could all be worm food right now, Drakken among them. She, the lone survivor would probably be in the hands of the enemy. And for what? Freya placed her elbows on her desk and buried her head in her hands.
Ouch. Finding out that you and your entire team had almost been killed just to see how good you are...what a major drag, huh? It looks like Thorne's not too happy about the last mission at all. Oh, and Drakken's recuperating in a bacta tank. What a mess. Oh, and what's Veruna really doing onboard the ship? Lots of unknown variables have just been introduced. In terms of complex systems, welcome to the edge of chaos. New chapter coming soon, friends. Until then, Cheerio!