''Dr Kirbley, we're approaching the Yavin system.''

Kirbley sat behind the two pilots of the Lambda shuttle in the sterile cockpit. The canopy let in the blue shades of Hyperspace. Kirbley looked down at his metal watch, the seconds ticking away. They'll be at their destination any moment.

''Hey doctor,'' said the captain suddenly. ''What do you study precisely?'' he asked.

''Psychology,'' Kirbley answered. ''Mostly that of children and teenagers.''

The captain nodded. ''I assume you work at the Center of Psychological Research on Coruscant?'' he asked.

''Yes I do,'' Kirbley answered.

The captain nodded. ''I have a 16-year-old daughter who is looking for an academy to study psychology. Do you have an academy in mind?'' he asked.

Kirbley thought. ''The Pantoran Psychological Academy is a good one. They accept outsiders too,'' he answered.

''I'll keep that name in mind,'' replied the captain.

Then the captain shifted his focus to the radio that gave him information via his pilot headset. Even though he couldn't see the faces of the pilots, Kirbley made out from the silent atmosphere that something was wrong, and he frowned.

''That's not good,'' said the co-pilot to his captain while listening.

The captain shook his head.

''Copy that,'' replied the captain. ''Dr Kirbley, we were just informed that the debris field moved to the exit of the Hyperlane, so we might experience some turbulence.''

Kirbley nodded.

''Stand-by for exit,'' said the captain.

Then the co-pilot took hold of the throttle and moved it all the way down, and the Lambda shuttle jumped out of Hyperspace. The blue shades disappeared, and what was visible beyond the shuttle's canopy was terrifying.

Kirbley looked with big eyes and his heart sank. Everywhere was debris floating in space. They reflected the light of the stars and a nearby, orange gas planet, causing them to flicker in the dark void. The debris flickered as they rotated around their axis.

''Are these the remains of the Death Star?'' asked Kirbley, terrified.

''I'm afraid so,'' answered the captain.

His voice shivered with terror as he scanned around, captured by the horrifying sight.

Such a big super weapon, declared as the most powerful weapon in the galaxy, intended to be the ultimate solution, hoped to be the end of terrorism, but ended up as the biggest field of debris in the galaxy.

''This is where all of our tax money went,'' said the co-pilot, shifting his head to the captain. ''To the biggest debris field in the galaxy.''

''Yeah, I know,'' replied the captain. ''Can't even begin about the casualties. Have you found the Eagleclaw's signal yet?''

''No,'' replied the co-pilot. ''I can't seem to pick it up.''

The captain nodded. ''I fear the debris is disrupting the comm channels.''

Oh, joy. They're unfindable, thought Kirbley. It made his heart pound in his chest with nervousness.

''Switch to visual scanning,'' said the captain. ''You have the controls now.''

''Confirmed, I have control,'' said the co-pilot and he took hold of the yoke.

The captain moved his head around to search for the Star Destroyer. Kirbley looked around too, scanning around but all he saw was debris flying past him, flickering in the dark. Then, in front of him, he saw a dead, frozen body of an officer floating in space. As the Lambda shuttle flew towards it, Kirbley kept tracking it with his eyes.

This is what war does. All it does is rain bodies, and even space is not free of that rain, he thought. Kirbley kept tracking the floating body with his eyes as it came closer and then disappeared in the blind spot of the shuttle's left side canopy.

''Found the signal,'' said the captain, and he pressed his headset closer to his ears. ''Eagleclaw Flight Control, this is Lambda-9, do you copy over?''

Kirbley shifted his head to the pilot, watching him as he talked over the radio.

''Understood, following vector 878 to Waypoint Centax and maintaining speed,'' said the pilot. ''We should be seeing you soon.''

Kirbley then felt pushed into his seat as the shuttle rapidly ascended, going higher and higher. Then he saw why they were ascending.

From within the cockpit, Kirbley saw the massive bridge of a Star Destroyer appearing on the right side of the shuttle, almost completely shrouded in darkness with only a few parts lit by the distant star. His eyes tracked its bridge as he noticed it was filled with cracks and holes. It seemed like it was hit directly by the debris of the Death Star when it exploded, as if a bomb's shrapnel punched the holes.

The sight of the totally wrecked Star Destroyer gave an eerie vibe as Kirbley tracked the totalled bridge with his eyes. He could sense death within the wreckage, as it was probably filled with the bodies of the crew.

Then, when they flew on, Kirbley's eyes fell upon the other Star Destroyers standing still in line next to the wreckage. He realized that the first Star Destroyer he saw was part of a large row of other destroyers and they were all wrecked, some were even missing the entire bridge. Not just one Star Destroyer was fatally wounded by the Death Star's explosion, an entire fleet was destroyed.

Kirbley shifted his head and his eyes fell upon a Class-4 container transporter with various spacetroopers, basically Stormtrooper retrofitted with oxygen tanks, flying out of one of the open containers with jetpacks. He saw them fly to a wrecked TIE Fighter with one of its wings missing, and as they flew by, he saw one of the spacetroopers cutting through the cockpit window with a blowtorch. Before they flew past them, Kirbley saw the TIE's cockpit window floating away and one of the spacetroopers pulling out the pilot, and he seemed traumatized as he tightly clung to one of the troopers.

Not even the elite pilots of the Imperial Navy could withstand such a cataclysmic event. It must've been scary for that pilot to hover aimlessly through the void of space without a way of escape. He must've lost all hope until he saw the spacetroopers cutting his cockpit open.

''Visual on the Eagleclaw," said the pilot, pointing out.

Kirbley shifted his head and his eyes fell upon a lit-up Star Destroyer. It was flying in a straight line in the vicinity of another, but wrecked Star Destroyer which was pulled by another Class-4 freighter to be parked in the row of other Destroyers wrecked by the Death Star's explosion.

''Watch out for those chunks,'' said the pilot, pointing out to pieces of debris flickering as they floated aimlessly through the void. ''One at your left.''

''Got it,'' replied the co-pilot, gently moving the yoke, steering the shuttle away from the chunk of debris.

''Do we have the tractor beam to guide us in?'' he asked, shifting his head to his colleague.

''I'll ask,'' he replied. ''Flight Control, what's the status of the tractor beam?''

it remained silent as Kirbley watched the pilot nodding. Hopefully, the tractor beam is at their disposal to guide them gently and safely. Without it, it could be a bumpy ride to dodge the chunks of debris.

''Copy that,'' replied the pilot, tapping on his headset. ''Inoperable, so that's gonna be an unguided approach.''

''Blast it,'' exclaimed the co-pilot.

That's a bummer, not having the tractor beam at their disposal. It's going to be a rough ride to dodge the debris floating aimlessly.

''Copy that,'' replied the pilot to Flight Control, ''clearance to approach, vector 981.''

They flew towards the Star Destroyer with its searchlights scanning the debris field as it was probably searching for bodies, survivors, or wreckages. The Lambda shuttle flew to the bottom of the Star Destroyer and approached the massive hangar bay. Kirbley felt the shuttle shake as its landing gear touched the floor.

As he felt the landing, his heart rate started to increase. It was time to meet his father, and he didn't feel pretty fond of it but he said he was coming, so showing up is what he would do.

''Your father is in his office.''

Kirbley nodded as he walked behind an Imperial officer. He led Kirbley through the corridors of the Eagle Claw. Kirbley's white uniform stood out from the grey, naval uniforms of the officers who kept the Star Destroyer up and running.

''Is he in his 'Battlebirds-losing-the-podrace' mood?'' asked Kirbley.

The officer let out a chuckle. ''I'm afraid something similar to that.''

The Battlebirds was a podracing team which usually crossed the finish line in the final lap as 3rd or 4th in the podracing grandprix of Corellia. Back when he was still young, his father regularly watched the races when it was live, shouting at the vidscreen when the race control was incompetent again.

''Son.''

As the door opened, his father immediately stood up from the chair behind his desk. Directly behind him was a big rectangular window with round edges. It showed just a minuscule part of the entire debris field the Death Star left behind. His totally grey outfit blended in with the rest of his room, as grey as the rest of the Imperial Navy.

''Hello, Father,'' greeted Kirbley as he entered the room.

''It's been a while,'' said his father.

He walked around his grey desk sitting at the end of his office room. The ceiling light casts a white ray of light down on the floor.

''Yeah, it is,'' Kirbley answered.

His backpack hung on his back and Kirbley put it off, putting it on the floor as his father approached him.

''How are you doing?'' his father asked.

''Fine, until you pulled my out of my lesson. For the first time, the students were actually interested in what I had to say.''

Father chuckled. ''My apologies. I should work on my timing.''

Kirbley nodded. ''What is it you want to talk about anyway?''

His father then glanced over Kirbley's shoulder.

''Carter, leave us alone'' ordered his father.

The officer behind Kirbley nodded and left the room and closed the door, letting silence fall.

''Son, for a few years there has been an arms race between generals, admirals and directors, trying to produce the next cutting-edge weapon,'' said his father, and he started to loop around the office. ''I never cared about producing a weapon on my own. It's for those who are desperately in need of getting approval of the Emperor himself. I always stood along the sidelines. Grand Admiral Thrawn's TIE Defender, Orson Krennic's Stardust, Tiber Saxon's walking Arc cannon, I didn't care. It would cost me millions of credits that I rather spend on upgrading my current stuff and my men if I had the financial support of High Com.''

His father walked to the window behind his office desk, and he looked out at the debris field, the chunks of steel floating past his Star Destroyer, while Kirbley kept standing in the middle of the room, looking at his father.

''But after I saw this, I changed my mind faster than it exploded. The Rebel Alliance killed over a million Imperials. Imagine how many families are affected by this.''

Father turned around and approached his steel desk, leaning on it as he made eye contact with his son.

''I have a plan on the table to make up for all the lives lost. This plan will put the Rebel Alliance in a tight corner, but I don't have the knowledge about psychology this plan so heavily requires.''

Father, you're kidding me?

Kirbley then realised why his father wanted him here. He pulled him out of his lecture, had him travel from Pantora to an Imperial checkpoint of the Navy somewhere in Bothan Space, and had his shuttle nearly crash into a chunk of the Death Star. Kirbley felt his heart speeding up with frustration and he shook his head.

''Father, I'm not going to work for the military,'' he said. ''Zero percent chance I will ever join the Navy.''

''Son, I'm sorry to disappoint you, and I understand your frustration, but sadly, you have to join my work. I see no other way.''

''Other way to what? Order and Peace through terror?''

He stepped towards his father and leaned on the opposing side of his desk, his fists clenched and pressed against the metal.

''Father, when I was a kid, I swore every day and night that I would never join any military,'' said Kirbley, his eyes narrowed. ''I chose to become a scientist because I don't want to be part of the bloodshed.''

''Son. I don't want you to join the military, I want you to cooperate with us, give us a helping hand. By that, you are in no way responsible for the lives that are lost.''

''I don't want to be connected with a military machine in any way. I don't want to be part of the war. I want to do something good, something everybody, no matter their political taste, can profit from.''

''Son, you have no other choice, you-''

''You can't order me to do anything. All you can order me is to step aside, but you can't order me to cooperate.

''Son, you-''

''Forget it, I won't help you with your plan.''

Kirbley turned his back to his father and wanted to walk out of the room to cool down his mind. He walked towards the shut door and pressed the switch but the door won't go open.

''Kirbley,'' continued his father. ''You're the son of a highly placed admiral. One day they'll come after me when they plot their next terrorist deed. When the rebel scum get me, they'll find out there's somebody they can interrogate and torture easier.''

Kirbley then felt the cold hand of his father on his right shoulder. Maybe he's right, thought Kirbley. The Rebel Alliance is desperate. They will go after my father. He will electrocute himself according to Imperial protocols, and then they'll find me. Imagine what they'd do to me, they'd manipulate me, try to get me to exceed my limits. They'd do everything to make me answer, because I'm the son of an admiral. I, as a civilian, knew about the Death Star. There's no other civilian who knows about it. I'd be a valuable target for the Rebels when my father is gone. The chance might be small, but it's not small enough.

This thought made Kirbley afraid of the future, seeing what could happen to him when the chances are not small enough. The atmosphere felt suffocating as Kirbley stood before a pathway he did not want to follow, but was forced to.

''Son. Please, I beg you to help me and yourself, and in turn, you help so many Imperial citizens with returning the peace.''

The silence that fell felt heavy on his chest. Kirbley wanted to stay away from his father to not be involved in this bloody war, however, he figured that he'd be involved anyway, no matter how far he distanced himself from his father, so, Kirbley made the hard decision and he turned around to his father with the frustration in his chest.

''I'll cooperate,'' replied Kirbley.

A thin smile formed on the face of his father.

''This plan needs my help at the field of psychology?'' Kirbley asked. ''So what's the plan?

''Night Force,'' Father replied. ''Short for the Night Force Recruitment Program.