Pillars of an Empire

by PaintedElectric

Both sides want nothing more than for the war to end on their own terms, but for some, war and a life of servitude is the only thing they know. Five such Imperial officers have witnessed the death and torture of their peers at the hands of the Force and wonder if there is a purpose to be served in laying down their lives for an Empire that would not do the same for them.

8. Chapter 8: Expendable

ADMIRAL MOTTI

Motti sat at his bed hunched over his knees with his hands clasped in front of him. His pale face reflecting back at him from his black transmission screen was oddly blank, considering the swell of emotions rushing through him in the aftermath of the attack on the bunker. Aside from when Jerjerrod picked up Motti's escape pod and in the days leading up to his trial, Motti worked exceptionally hard to never display any sort of fear, remorse, or negative emotion. Now, however, he was not capable of forming any expression whatsoever, as he felt that his body was still in shock and denial from what had happened on the command deck and his reaction had not yet caught up to him.

Jerjerrod had offered an explanation that evening before their departure from the bunker via an airlift. The commander had said that he would summon Piett and Needa to Motti's quarters to discuss how and why the events of the day had transpired in the manner in which they had. And Jerjerrod had hinted that he had even further grave news to give, which made Motti consider locking the lot of them out of his quarters until it was time to board the ship that would return him to the Death Star where he need only be in Jerjerrod's company while on duty and could avoid him the rest of the time.

The animosity, the lack of understanding, the undeniable rage he was feeling toward his fellow officer, his friend even, was not only confusing, but debilitating. He couldn't fathom why he felt the urge to say hurtful things to Jerjerrod, to punish him for making that call to blow the bridge and sacrifice Veers in the process. Motti did not know Veers as well as he knew Jerjerrod and had not been looked after and spoken for by Veers like he had been by Jerjerrod, yet he had always strived to be the sort of man Veers was and now that his idol was gone, he felt that someone had to pay.

It made no sense to punish Jerjerrod for doing what Veers had put him in charge to do, for Jerjerrod had not done it maliciously or vindictively, as Veers was his friend as well as Motti's, but Motti had watched Jerjerrod weigh his options and it appeared that he had waged a silent war with himself, almost as if he were stalling for time in hoping that Veers could somehow communicate with him over a dead com link. Jerjerrod had waited to make that call and when he finally did, he made it as an empty man, for Motti saw nothing there on the commander's face when he gave the order. As they were taught, Jerjerrod withheld any emotion, yet Motti needed to have seen something there on Jerjerrod's face to justify his actions. He could not have given that order and pressed the detonator himself and been so cold while doing it.

But he had. He had taken the action that ended hundreds of lives, made his report to the Sith, and then walked away, and that lack of remorse was something Motti would not tolerate, not from his commanding officer and not from his friend.

When Jerjerrod arrived to speak to him followed closely by Piett and Needa, he deactivated the recording device on Motti's desk and locked the door. Motti was not comfortable being locked into his own quarters and was about to say so when Jerjerrod faced him with a bead of sweat on his temple, which pulled Motti up short.

Jerjerrod was a composed man and only those who knew him best could tell when he was unsteady, troubled, or not completely in control of himself. To do something as human as sweat showed that he was deathly afraid of being overheard.

"What I am about to say cannot leave this room. I am not asking you as your commanding officer, but as your friend to not spread this information."

Intrigued, Motti leaned forward on his knees to show he was listening.

"Let me preface this by saying that I have always been trusting of the three of you due to how well I know you–or thought I knew you–from our days as pupils at the Academy. I would never accuse or believe any of you capable of betraying my trust, but what happened today has cut deep and shaken that trust. I saw it in your faces after I gave my report to Lord Vader and I heard it in your voices both during and after the rebel attack. One of you even voiced your doubt of me."

Here, Jerjerrod gave a pointed look to Motti who had no issue with being singled out and said blandly in a way he knew Jerjerrod would not appreciate, "That doesn't sound like me."

"That response is the epitome of your interactions with me lately, Conan. Disrespect, insubordination, distrust. I'm not asking for, nor do I need your permission to make a call that carries such weight, but I am asking you to understand why I made that call and to not bring my leadership into question. For this, I need you to be open-minded. All of you."

"Open-minded about your decision to sacrifice many good men today?" asked Needa in an uncharacteristic challenge of Jerjerrod's morality.

"If I hadn't, we would not be alive to be having this conversation right now. As high-ranking officers, we were chosen because it was believed that we would not hesitate when it came to carrying out those decisions for the prosperity of the Galactic Empire. There are some who would commend me for what I did today."

"If you think for one second–" Motti began furiously, but Jerjerrod cut him off, apparently already anticipating his rebuttal.

"I don't expect you to commend me for what I had to do, but I am asking you to take into consideration that I did not make these decisions lightly. I, too, lost a good friend today. I don't wish to be honored or congratulated for sacrificing our men or our friend, but it is imperative that I explain how I view my actions and that you see where I am coming from. Command of the entire base of operations aboard this moon was given to me by the man Lord Vader put in charge. I was tasked with doing what I deemed was right until Maxim's return to the command deck, and his last order to me was to blow the bridge, knowing what it meant. I had to decide whether to defy his orders and risk losing the bunker to the rebels or obey him and save however many I could by cutting off the rebels' access to us. I chose the latter because that was expected of me, no matter the circumstances.

Our duty is always to the Empire first, not our friends–should we be lucky enough to have any–not our fellow officers, and not our men. Had I chosen to try and delay blowing the bridge until Maxim had made it back across if that was even possible, I would have risked allowing the rebels to storm the bunker in which case we all would either be dead by the rebels' hands, prisoners of war, or dead by Lord Vader's hands for allowing such a thing to happen. By not allowing that to happen, I find myself facing the ire of my men and those I count as friends. I had no choice in making a choice, so I chose to do what was commanded of me by the most senior ranking officer on this moon. Detonating the bridge was the only contingency plan in place, as he well knew."

"I tried to get to him," said Piett and for the first time, with a catch in his throat as if only just now realizing his failure. "I was on our side of the bridge directing troops inward, stationing them for what I believed would be a defensive tactic, but when I heard that Maxim was the one holding the bridge, I tried to cross over and grab him. I never made it anywhere near the bridge, though, since the troopers saw fit to manhandle me from letting me go to him."

"There was time," said Motti. "There was still time for him to make it across on his own. And what in the hell was he doing out there anyway? He was the one who brought up what an architectural disaster the bridge was, so why would he position himself at that point, knowing he was leaving himself with no retreat?"

"Lord Vader gave the order to send you to hold the bridge," said Jerjerrod heavily. He was leaving it up to Motti to figure out the Sith's motives, which wouldn't be hard at all, but he would not speak the words. "Maxim was there when Lord Vader gave that order and he would not allow it to happen. He replaced you on the bridge, unbeknownst to the Sith."

Bristling, Motti stood up in anger. So, his friend was dead because the Sith had wanted to make quick and subtle work of doing away with Motti to make it look like an accident? He didn't know whether to direct his anger toward the Sith or Veers but since neither were here in the flesh, he projected toward the only man who he could verbally berate for being part of such a foolhardy task. "He had no right. You had no right–"

"That man is dead, Conan, do not dishonor him in death for the choice he made, especially when that choice saved your life."

"You're as much to blame in this as he was. If that was the Sith's command, you should have brought it to me and let me choose to be a coward and defy him or be an idiot and go out on the bridge as ordered. That was my choice to make, not his, and certainly not yours. And for him to leave you in charge–"

"He left me in charge based off of seniority and to ensure that you did not step foot on that battlefield. He knew what he was doing when he appointed me as his successor and when he took your place. He knew that I might have to make some difficult calls and that I was the only one capable of carrying out orders as he would have done. Ask yourself, if you had been placed in my shoes and had to make the choice to allow the rebels to overtake the bunker or to blow the bridge, what would you have done?" Jerjerrod demanded.

"I would have-"

"No, you don't know what you would have done. I couldn't say what I would have done before that moment. Nothing prepares you for it. That was a decision I had to make. No one else could have made it, so I did, and thousands of lives were saved, including yours, because of it. And many of our men now resent me for it, even if it ultimately saved their lives, so how do you figure you would have fared in this situation when it's so vitally important to you to be liked and respected by your inferiors? It was my actions and mine alone and I don't need you to pass judgment in the aftermath. This is why I hold the rank that I do while you remain admiral, because you are ill equipped to handle these sorts of situations. You have always known the safety of superior officers and an armada at your back and never directly been in charge of so many lives and until you know what that feels like, you won't understand how crippling it can be."

Motti believed himself capable of handling more than Jerjerrod gave him credit for, but there was too much truth in that statement to deny it. He had never been in charge directly and had never had so many men relying on him to make the right call to protect them. If he had been the one Veers left in command, what would he have done? He did not envy Jerjerrod having some men be grateful that he destroyed the bridge and in the same breath curse him for cutting off the escape route and killing so many others. Damned if he had, damned if he hadn't.

"We'll never know what else might have been done today or if there was another option, but whatever else happens to you, Maxim's death will always be on your hands."

"And I will cope with that burden, something you would not be able to do."

"Don't you stand there and call me a coward." Motti took several menacing steps inward. He had looked Lord Vader in the mask after being throttled and had not been allowed to react. What an impossible feat in challenging a Sith, being publicly punished and humiliated for it, and being unable to say one word in his own defense after the fact without fear of repercussions or worse. Now, however, Motti did not fear Jerjerrod or the consequences that would come from challenging his commanding officer.

"I didn't–"

"I'll not hear it, Tiaan. Not from the Emperor, not from Vader, and certainly not from you."

"You will never hear me say that to you. I am telling you that you aren't as sound of mind as you think you are and that this weight isn't one you would be able to carry. Look at yourself and how you are choosing to handle the death of a friend. You couldn't compose yourself when you were told that your trial was to be overseen by the Emperor, you couldn't compose yourself at the command deck, so how do you imagine you would have fared if you had had to give the order, knowing that you were killing someone who meant so much to you on top of having to kill hundreds to save thousands? You aren't ready, and I hope you never have to be. I don't wish this on anyone but I would rather it be me than any of you. I can take it."

"And why do you believe we wouldn't be able to?" asked Needa.

"Because you have a shred of humanity left in you and it's not too late to salvage what's left of it. Goodness hasn't been stamped out of you like so many who have come before you. These decisions to sacrifice your own men for–for whatever greater cause there is should not be yours to make and they aren't made by decent people."

"And you believe that inherent goodness doesn't reside in you?" asked Piett, but it was a life line question, an act of peacemaking. Piett was the sort of man to question when someone was degrading themselves. He wanted to believe in the best of every man and wanted every man to be given the opportunity to see that for himself. At times, Motti found it to be an irritable quality, but understood how it was being used now.

"There is less of it in people who have to make decisions like the one I made today," said Jerjerrod carefully in answer to Piett's question. "And I will not be remembered for today as a victory. With Maxim's death, the Empire has lost one of its most decorated and valuable generals. That would not have happened if he and I had followed orders today and as a result, my life is now forfeit."

"That seems a bit dramatic," said Motti, not appreciating Jerjerrod's brooding conclusion.

"It isn't. In deliberately defying Lord Vader's orders, I put my concern for you above my duty to ensure the safety of this bunker and in doing so, I proved to him that I care more for a friend than I do for the Empire. A man with his own ambitions, his own desires and agendas has no place in the Imperial Navy, and certainly not as a commander in that navy. I have proven that I am not malleable in the way that Imperial officers are meant to be, and so I have painted myself as a threat and someone to be disposed of."

Motti didn't believe that at all. Jerjerrod, while not as favored as Veers had been, was still an asset to the Empire. He was chief architect, he was the reason the Empire had the means to construct the Death Star, he was obedient and timely, and his men respected him and in turn, produced favorable results. The Sith would not have him killed simply because Veers had taken Motti's place on the bridge. Jerjerrod had no say in the matter concerning what Veers chose to do. However, it did seem in character for Lord Vader to punish Jerjerrod simply because of the two men who received and defied orders, Jerjerrod was the survivor and someone needed to atone for disobeying the Sith.

"Lord Vader plans to execute me upon my arrival back on the Death Star and with me out of the way, he will be free to dispose of you because I am the only one who would vouch for you. I cannot willingly walk to my death and I cannot leave you behind, so you must come with me. Neither of us will be returning to our posts."

Motti scoffed in disbelief. "That's a wild and unbecoming assumption from someone of your status. At this stage of the Death Star's completion, you would be an enormous and inconvenient chore to replace and with me as the second in command to the project, it would also be a chore to replace me. How would you even know that Vader plans to kill you for something Maxim did? I'm not about to throw away my entire military career on a whim–"

"You already did. You forfeited any military future the day you challenged Lord Vader. Though you were placed on probation, you were never going to recover from that slight. You are disposable, evident in how Lord Vader commanded that you be on that bridge because he knew we would eventually have no choice but to destroy it and he wanted you to be on it during that time. He openly tried to have you killed even with me standing there, so if he would so blatantly attempt to have you killed in my presence, he would snap your neck in a heartbeat if I'm not there to speak for you. I was all that stood between you and death because the Emperor placed you under my care, remember? You became my responsibility and without me, you won't last one minute. You must come with me, or you will die before Lord Vader."

Needa's jaw dropped slightly open at this news but judging by Piett's lowered gaze, Motti guessed that at some point before now, Jerjerrod had voiced these suspicions to Piett, so this was not news to him.

"Do you believe this?" Motti asked Piett, counting on the man's inability to convincingly lie.

Piett nodded gravely. "Having seen a man killed for less by the Sith than what Tiaan did today, I am inclined to believe that Lord Vader no longer sees a use for him. I believe both of you to be in danger and have already discussed diversionary tactics to stall for time to allow the both of you to commandeer an escape pod once we land this evening on the Death Star."

"You know he'll know that you had something to do with our escape."

"I have already had this discussion as well and I believe myself to be of greater value than both of you as a man in charge of the fleet and not of designing a battle station that is nearing completion. A man with no great expertise need only follow the blueprints left behind to finish construction of the Death Star, but I have experience in the field and know the rebels quite well, so I am not in immediate danger."

"You think too highly of yourself."

"On the contrary, I've never felt highly of myself before, but I am more essential to the war effort than either of you. If Lord Vader suspects that I had something to do with your escape, he will not act on those suspicions until after I have served my purpose and by then I might very well have made my own plans for desertion."

Glancing between Jerjerrod and Piett as if expecting one of them to admit that this entire conversation had been a very feeble joke, Motti could not believe what he was hearing. "You realize that you both are speaking treason and that Lorth and I could be executed just for affiliating with you?"

"I am not about to die for a cause that so needlessly disposes of the men who serve it," said Jerjerrod with heavy resentment. "We are the pillars upon which the Empire stands and without us, it would be nothing. What do I have to show for my years of service apart from that monstrosity looming over the moon? What thanks have I received for all of the time I put in? I pride myself in knowing a sinking ship when I see one and the ship that is sinking is my own if I walk into Lord Vader's chambers this evening. I've exhausted my use to the Empire because I am human enough to care about someone, anyone, and that is seen as a weakness and a liability. I cannot in good conscience leave you behind, so if you are having doubts of your own, you had best come to terms with them before we land."

/ /

It was to be a hurried and tight boarding process that evening, as their transport could only hover above the landing pad with no room to touch down. Once the group of troopers and lower-class officers had leaped onto the boarding ramp and given the signal for the officers to do the same, Jerjerrod was the first to take a small running start and jump up onto the ramp in a manner that looked positively effortless. Piett went next, and as his legs were much shorter than Jerjerrod's, he had to leap a further distance but managed to stick the landing by dropping to his knees onto the ramp. With an impartial shrug between the two of them and a signal from the troopers that the pilot was ushering the process along, Motti and Needa decided to go at the same time. There was a slight thrill of one or two seconds of free falling and then Motti's boots hit the metal of the ramp.

Inside the cockpit, he found that all the other seats apart from the one across the aisle from Jerjerrod had been taken and so he sat down wordlessly and secured the strap across his lap, still thinking of Jerjerrod's words from earlier.

It was unfair for Motti to place all the blame on the commander, but since he could take no responsibility in any of this and there was no one else at fault for how things had transpired, it was difficult to shift the blame to anyone else. Whether or not Motti would have been able to make that call to blow the bridge, he would never know, but he did know that he would have done things differently, as his mind was hardwired to deal with the immediate threat rather than the potential of one.

As the shuttle lifted away from the bunker, Motti considered that he still was not certain that he believed the imminent danger Jerjerrod seemed to believe he and Motti were in. The Sith would not have Jerjerrod killed simply because he chose to not allow Motti on the bridge. And if the Sith wanted Motti dead so badly, there were other ways to do it, ways that did not compromise the safety of other officers, ways that would grant the former greater satisfaction in his demise. Motti strongly believed that if Vader truly wanted him dead only because Motti did not fear him, the Sith would kill him in person to see the lights leave his eyes. Vader would not leave Motti's death up to chance if that was his goal to see him dead and glean any sort of satisfaction from it. There were too many loose ends if he did not kill Motti himself.

And yet, having Motti placed on the bridge was a reckless thing to do and a poor attempt at having Motti dealt with if the Sith was so adamant about having him killed and it had dramatically backfired, resulting in Vader losing his best general. Vader had been willing to sacrifice men to position Motti on that bridge, anticipating its ultimate destruction.

As twisted as it was, Motti could not help but feel the tiniest inkling of pride and self-importance that he was enough of a nuisance to the most powerful beings in the universe that Vader would go to such lengths to be rid of him. How irritating and humiliating that must be to the Sith to have a mere human challenge him without fear of repercussions. Or perhaps that was foolish on Motti's part.

Either way, he didn't believe that Jerjerrod needed to fear Vader upon their landing. What he did believe was that–if Vader had attempted to kill him in front of Jerjerrod–there would be nothing stopping him the next time if there was a next time. Vader had been willing to kill Motti in the presence of the man who had vouched for him and sacrificed many men in the hopes of having Motti be on the bridge when it detonated. If he had made the attempt on Motti's life before, he would have no reason not to do it again, and so if anyone was in danger upon their return to the Death Star, it was Motti, not Jerjerrod.

So lost in his thoughts was he that had he not been wearing his security strap, Motti would have then gone flying into the windscreen as something suddenly struck the back of the ship. His upper body lurched forward and he felt a painful jolt in his neck. He had not even begun to ask what had happened when he heard the pilot begin shouting orders to his co-pilot who then passed instructions on to all the passengers.

"Stay in your seats!"

"We've been hit. Starboard engine failing. Our hull is breached."

The compartments for the oxygen supply masks opened beside all the seats, but since they were within the atmosphere of Endor and flying relatively low, the masks were not yet necessary.

"Command, this is T-4a Shuttle Rodenium , we've been hit and are going down. Our coordinates are–"

Motti clapped his hands over his ears as a splitting, ear-wrenching screech threatened to blow out his eardrums.

"What was that?" asked Needa from behind him.

"That was the measures for activating the escape pod portion of the cockpit failing," said Jerjerrod, almost sounding bored but looking like he was on the verge of screaming or fainting. He would know the parts of these specialized shuttles far better than anyone else and Motti believed the commander to be accurate in his assumptions, though it did nothing to make him feel better about the situation.

"I have no signal," said the co-pilot. "I can't get through."

"Activate our distress beacon. Emergency landing sequence initiated," said the pilot. "Hold onto something back there!"

It did not process in Motti's head that they were about to crash. Such a thing was unheard of. There were always measures in place to ensure safe deployment of officers in these situations. But transports such as these were designed for space evacuation, not moon or world-based crash landings, and given that this was a moon dense with trees, their likelihood of finding a smooth patch to skid safely along was almost nonexistent.

There was no position to tuck himself into in order to prepare for impact. All he could do was hold onto his seat and hope he wasn't snapped in half upon landing. He had been this close to death before, and not just one time. Twice he had been throttled by the Sith and he had just escaped the fatality lining of the blast radius caused by the first Death Star's destruction. Most recently, he had almost been beaten to death and shot, skewered, or in any other manner blasted to pieces by the rebels. He should have been used to this sort of bad luck following him around, but at this moment, all he could feel was crippling anticipation.

"Don't tense up; let your body go limp," advised Jerjerrod.

Motti was about to argue that that seemed to go against every law of nature that he knew, but Jerjerrod turned his head to face him with a look unlike anything Motti had ever seen before, as if Jerjerrod was trying to reach into his soul and claim it for his own. It belonged to someone much older, much wiser, someone who had seen awful, terrible, unspeakable things, someone who knew everything that ever had been, was, or would be. It was a look of someone who was not human and in that moment, Motti had never been more frightened, not even of the Sith.

Then, he heard a voice, one that he was certain he had heard before in his head, and as it spoke, he knew he had heard this command from this particular voice. Listen, it told him. Listen and release.

Peeling his fingers off of the edge of his seat, relaxing the muscles in his legs and arms, letting out the breath he had been holding, Motti went limp. Out of the cockpit windscreen ahead, he could see the lights illuminating a vast body of water below. Behind him, men were shouting out what may well be their last words and he thought he heard Piett trying to calm them. The water filled every inch of the windscreen for three seconds and Motti had time to draw in one more breath. On the exhale, he let it out sharply and felt his body being yanked forward as if all four limbs were tied to cords that had ten men apiece pulling on them. If he had been holding onto something, if he had had his legs locked into place, he would have snapped bones in every limb.

The power died on impact, but the emergency lights flickered and came on in their place and as Motti took into account that he could see lights, he realized he was still alive. By the way the blood was rushing to the front of his head and his arms and legs were dangling in front of him, he concluded that they had crashed into the water nose-first and were now facing downward.

Instantly water began seeping in from below, slowly, but forebodingly, and as it swirled around the ankles of the pilot and co-pilot, Motti could see that neither man had survived the impact, as they had been holding on to the last second to control the yoke. The co-pilot's neck had snapped and the pilot had smacked his head on the control panel. Both now hung lifeless, strapped to their seats.

As the water continued to seep in, the shuttle began to level itself and sink. When Motti deemed it to be less than a forty-five degree angle, he touched the release button across his chest and his security strap opened. He slid just a foot or so forward before planting his boots against the seatback of the co-pilot in front of him and then craned his neck around to see if anyone else was still alive.

To say he was surprised to see Jerjerrod sitting wide-eyed and frozen in his seat would be a lie, but he was still relieved to make the discovery. Behind Jerjerrod, Piett was looking winded and shell-shocked and behind Motti's seat was Needa with a cut across the bridge of his nose. Of the twenty-four men packed into the remaining seats, it appeared that five had not survived in similar fashion to the demise of the pilot and co-pilot.

Finally, Jerjerrod was the one to break the silence as he called back to the nearly two dozen men, "Unstrap yourselves. Start moving about to test for anything broken. The cockpit is going to continue to fill with water and we have to find a way out or we'll all drown in here."

Piett was the first out of his seat, hurrying across the narrow walkway to Needa to ensure he had no pressing injuries. He then made his way to the rear to test the integrity of the boarding ramp.

"Conan," said Jerjerrod quietly, "there should be an emergency kit below the co-pilot's station. Would you look in there for a belt severing device or a knife of some sort? My security strap is jammed."

Wondering how Jerjerrod had time to look over a flight manual of where emergency kits were stored in various types of transport ships among his long list of regular duties, Motti gently pushed the co-pilot's legs aside to reach under the left side of the control panel and located the cylinder packed with emergency gear. He tipped it open and spread the contents over the dashboard until he found a blade which he then brought to Jerjerrod. Rather than hand it over, however, he ran the flat of the blade against Jerjerrod's breast and then turned the sharp end against the strap, drawing it back and forth several times until it snapped and Jerjerrod pitched forward, catching himself just before he collided with Motti.

Pushing back to escape the rising water, Jerjerrod took quick stock of the situation, doing some sort of mental calculation in his head and arriving at a conclusion that he did not look happy with.

"We're not getting out that way," reported Piett with a nod at the rear of the cabin. "The boarding ramp is crushed and won't open without the controls."

"We'll have to swim for it," said Jerjerrod as the men fell quiet to listen. "We would have to swim down to exit that way anyway, but since that isn't an option, we'll have to go out the windscreen." He removed his blaster from its holster at his belt.

"If you shoot out the windscreen this whole place will flood in seconds," said Needa.

"And if I don't, we will have no way out and will drown," Jerjerrod reasoned. "When the water comes in, let it carry you to the ceiling and don't try to swim against it because it will push you right back in. Once the cockpit is full, then swim for the surface. Take as large of a breath as you can. Leave everything here and once we assess where we've crashed, we can decide if we can risk returning for any salvageable supplies. If you can't swim, partner with someone who can and for those of you who can't, try to remain as calm as possible. We aren't that deep below the surface and your body's natural buoyancy will take you straight up. Those of you wearing helmets, take them off now or you'll suffocate yourselves."

All around Motti, his fellow officers were stashing their kepis in their trouser pockets for safekeeping as if that was even the slightest bit important at the moment, but he hadn't put his on anyway, so he did not participate in the mindless act. Troopers were removing their helmets and blinking rapidly in the sudden rush of light to their naked eyes.

Jerjerrod pointed his blaster at the windscreen. "The emergency lights will stay on to light your way. Once the cockpit fills, follow Admiral Piett out and stick together when you reach the surface."

It was questionable at first why he had assigned that role to Piett, but then Motti recalled that Piett came from a tropical planet that would have presented opportunities for swimming daily. Piett would have lived out his childhood in the water and would know his way around it. He was the ideal leader for this situation, though judging by how pallid his face had become, he was not keen to take on that role.

"Will a blaster shot be enough to shatter the windscreen, sir?" asked a trooper.

"It's already cracked," pointed out Piett, and then moved against the wall to clear the path for Jerjerrod to make the shot.

It took only two bolts of white-hot energy from the blaster and the windscreen broke into fragments that were instantly swallowed by the murky water seeping in. The water rose at an alarming rate, rushing in over Motti's boots, then his knees, then his midsection, and instantly chilling him, though he knew that Endor was a planet in eternal summer and that the cold was just his body's initial shock amd not reflective of the temperature itself. Motti could see Jerjerrod expelling large amounts of air in preparation to inhale enough to get him to the surface. Needa was trying his best to retain some form of composure and one of the troopers was trying to say something encouraging to him that Piett couldn't hear.

Motti was taking his cues from Jerjerrod, as he seemed calmest and Motti was as far out of his element as it was possible to be. Inwardly, he wanted to dissolve into sheer bloody panic, but his reputation demanded that he keep a hold of himself.

"Whatever you do, do not panic," said Jerjerrod, glancing sideways at Motti as if reading his thoughts or rather, his emotions. "Once you reach the surface, you'll float. I'll be right beside you and as long as you remain calm, you'll reach the shore, but if you panic, you'll drown us both."

"Yes, sir," said Motti, though even he could not tell if that was sarcasm or him simply being obedient to maintain some small amount of control over his situation.

"There's no need to ask if you can swim, is there?"

"None at all."

Hailing from a rather dry, desolate planet, Motti did not have the experience Piett and Jerjerrod had in swimming. Axxila was over eighty percent water and Tinnel IV was home to moor and sea while Seswanna was rocks, flatlands, and city. The deepest body of water Motti had ever stepped foot in was a bathtub.

"Deep breaths," said Jerjerrod, his voice close, yet echoing as the water breached their necks. "Hold your mouths up to the ceiling to get the last bit of air you can."

Motti was torn between trying to keep an eye on Jerjerrod and taking in the last bit of air he could. The emergency lights were giving the water an eerie yellowish-green glow from below, but he feared that they would blind him from finding the exit. Too many possible scenarios were racing through his head.

"Stay right with me," came Jerjerrod's voice, and then Motti saw the water swallow him. Two seconds later, Motti inhaled as much as was humanly possible, and pressed his hands to the cockpit ceiling to push himself downward. The lights were muted thanks to the water density and with his eyes straining to keep sight of the pair of boots kicking in front of him, he swam after whoever was leading him out.

To say he swam was giving him far too much credit, though, for he was floundering like the worst sort of desperate fish out of water despite being in water. The light from the cockpit grew dimmer below him and the light from above was purely lit by the few stars that were managing to shine through the thick covering of clouds that had begun descending on the moon earlier that day. He was following the darker shapes in the water that he assumed to be other men, but his lungs were already begging him for air, and he was no stranger to having his air cut off. Quicker than he expected, he found his head breaking the surface of the water, but he still spluttered for breath and instantly felt himself being sucked back down as his body attempted to navigate these quite literal foreign waters.

Seconds later, Jerjerrod surfaced beside him and knocked Motti's flailing arms aside to grab hold of his face and essentially hold him upright by the head.

Blinking away the water, Motti could pick out by starlight a gradual slope of land and then a treeline not too far behind Jerjerrod. Several other soldiers were already swimming toward land, but the distance suddenly seemed much too arduous and Motti felt a creeping panic that he would not be able to maintain his composure long enough to swim the same length.

"You're alright," Jerjerrod assured him. "I have you and so long as you listen closely to me, you've nothing to worry about. Do you understand?"

Feeling that he could not form words at the moment, Motti could only nod, clinging to Jerjerrod's instructions as closely as he would have liked to cling to a flotation device right now.

"I am going to pull you by the front of your uniform toward the shore. I need you to lean forward as much as you can, bring your knees to your chest, and then kick out in an arc with both legs. This will help propel you forward and help me to not be lugging all of your weight."

Just then, Piett appeared beside them looking as if he had emerged from the wreck below, but he had been in the front, so why was he just now surfacing?

"Lorth never came up," he said fearfully.

"He was right beside me in the cockpit," said Jerjerrod. "Can he swim?"

A quick recollection of the fact that Needa's home planet was Coruscant confirmed at least in Motti's mind that no, Needa could not swim, and a panicked non-swimmer was more than enough to take an experienced swimmer down with him, as Jerjerrod had just told and proven to Motti.

Before either of them could say another word, Piett had disappeared back under the water.

Motti knew he should stay and help, but that he was a liability at this moment in not knowing how to swim and that Jerjerrod could not help either if he was to see Motti safely to shore, so against both of their better judgment, they had to leave Piett to find Needa alone.

Employing the technique Jerjerrod had instructed him to use, Motti brought his knees to his chest and kicked out in a wide pattern. It went against his nature to keep his arms idle as Jerjerrod took a fistful of the front of his uniform and began to pull him toward the shoreline with the strength of one arm alone. They were making slow progress, as Motti's weight was slowing them down, but the fact that Motti could see soldiers clustered together ahead helped him to keep an optimistic attitude about the situation–that was until something brushed against his leg.

Though the logical part of his brain was telling him that he likely had grazed kelp or some underwater vegetation, the presently stronger and reactive part of his brain sent him into a frenzied state of terror, telling him that he needed to get out of the water and get out now.

The moment he tried to bypass Jerjerrod, his face dipped back below the water and he swallowed several mouthfuls of the stuff. Clawing forward with both arms, he came into contact with what he hoped was Jerjerrod and nearly bulldozed him in an attempt to brush past him and get out of the water faster. His legs were kicking madly and as one boot collided with something underfoot, he realized he was coming into shallow water. In an attempt to stand up but unprepared for the way his waterlogged clothes would weigh him down, he face-planted and swallowed another few gulps and felt more shoot up his nose and make his eyes burn.

"Stand up!"

His brain recognized the command, but his body refused to obey and he flopped around in the shallows in a way that he was certain many men would find amusing if it had been an amusing situation. Jerjerrod had a grip on the back of his uniform to lift him free of the water and then switched his grip to either side of Motti's waist. The last few feet were full of flying sand and choking, but Jerjerrod let him drop, thumping him soundly on the back to clear his airways of water.

"You panicked, didn't you?" he asked tactfully.

"Right there at the end," Motti admitted. "I suddenly came to the realization that there might be creatures other than fish in the water."

"I'm sure there are, but I don't believe there are any large enough to devour you whole in a lake of this size."

Jerjerrod cupped his hands around his eyes to try and pick out a disturbance out on the water to look for where Piett might have surfaced again. Motti copied him, still feeling quite foolish for how he had reacted, when he pointed out two shapes treading water above where the wreck had gone down. "There they are."

"Something's wrong," said Jerjerrod as he watched Piett and Needa and as Motti watched the body language, he could see it too. One of them was attempting to push the other underwater as a means of forming a flotation device. As the non-swimmer between the two of them, Needa had dissolved into panic and was now drowning Piett to stay afloat.

Jerjerrod crashed back out into the water and once he had arrived at waist-height depth, he took a dive in to swim out to the battling duo.

"Lorth, let him go!" Motti hollered out into the night, but if Needa could hear him, he didn't heed him.

Helpless to the situation, Motti could only watch as the splashing figure of Jerjerrod came nearer and nearer to where Piett was clearly losing his fight to stay afloat against the taller and stronger form of Needa. When Jerjerrod reached them, he did perhaps not the most logical and composed thing, but the best thing for the situation in punching Needa in the face to stun him before fastening an arm across Needa's neck from behind to keep him calm but buoyant. A brief exchange was had between Jerjerrod and Piett who was obviously trying to recover from nearly being drowned and then the two of them began to haul Needa to shore.

Motti was at least glad that he had not tried to stuff Jerjerrod under him in the hopes of using his body as some sort of life preserver, and he was certain that though Piett would not hold it against Needa, he would remind Needa of this fact as often as he could to reprimand him for not taking Piett's advice in participating in swimming lessons as a boy in the Academy.

Watching the three of them approach shore, Motti saw the undisturbed surface of the water spreading out in all directions around them and thought it odd that nothing had come to investigate the many bodies and large metallic objects that had invaded the tranquility of the lake. Surely, something had to either be hungry or curious enough to come looking. All at once, a cold, clammy sensation that had nothing to do with how wet he was dropped into Motti's gut. It was more than a feeling; it was certainty that something was lurking in the water far more dangerous than a carnivorous school of fish.

"Get out of the water," said Motti loudly, watching Jerjerrod and Piett drag Needa up out of the shallows. "Tiaan, get out of the water now!"

Jerjerrod must have sensed the urgency in his voice, for he began to run as much as he was able out of the water, lugging Needa along until only their ankles remained submerged. When they were ten feet from Motti, Piett suddenly froze in place and then with a frenzied fervor, began to strip off his clothes. Motti thought that he might have gone mad or that too much water had made its way to his brain, but as Piett stripped off his outer layer and removed his underclothes, he threw them aside and ran his hands up and down his arms as if checking himself for marks. He then pointed to the ground where his tunic lay and Motti saw something struggling to wriggle out of one of the sleeves.

Motti called the troopers forward and instructed them to shine their blaster lights on Piett's uniform where they could see the head of a fanged reptile poking out. One sharp-shooting trooper let off one shot that blasted the reptile's head clean in half.

"Check the admiral for bites," said Jerjerrod, and as the troopers shined their lights over Piett's bony back and hollow chest, Jerjerrod deposited Needa on the ground beside Motti. He let out a shaky breath of exhaustion and placed his hands on his knees for five seconds before standing upright again, chin jutting forward to appear in control and in command.

"I don't think it'll be possible diving back down to retrieve any supplies. The lake isn't deep, but we don't know what else is in that water and in any case, it was a short distance human cargo shuttle; there wouldn't be any rations or anything else we could use."

"Is the plan to wait for them to locate the coordinates of the distress beacon before the ship went down?" asked Motti.

"Even if they did locate the beacon, we don't want them locating us," said Jerjerrod with resignation.

Motti blanched. "I feel like I missed the crucial part of this conversation where you explained why we don't want to be found."

"Because we were shot down by friendly fire."