Chapter 1

The Inevitable

The endlessness of hyperspace is captivating and maddening, blinding blue-white lines of countless worlds and infinite possibilities. Tragically, like life, it can be torn away in an instant.

Klaxon's howl and lights flash warning within The Inevitable. The battered victory-class star destroyer plunges wildly through space as it decelerates from lightspeed. A massive asteroid, almost a small moon, appears distantly as they hurtle towards it. Urgently, the ship tilts, slowing but not before the vessel's nose scrapes along its surface. The scarring leaves a debris field behind it. Thousands of blue sparks and flaring red-orange bursts warn of punctures in the hull.

Cannonfire pounds the star destroyer as a horde of fighters swarm it. A year ago, pirates ambushing a capital ship was unimaginable. Now, the already scarred and diminished vessel struggles to react. Prior battles have taken their toll, veering desperately, the sudden drop from hyperspace stalls its response. Collision alarms battle with desperate public broadcasts.

The Inevitable is not prey. Raising shields and launching fighters, the destroyer shifts away from the rock. The aging vessel swiftly recovers. Heavy armor absorbs cannon fire from the pirate cruisers before shields neutralize it. Then fighters appear, launching concussion torpedoes, devastating the Inevitable. All around the colossal destroyer, gravely outnumbered tie fighters engage the pirates, enough to stall further torpedo salvos but not turn the tide.

Without warning, dozens of assault shuttles hiding on the asteroid's surface launch. In mere moments the ramshackle and mismatched squadron pierces the destroyer's hull or latches onto airlocks, belching savage boarding parties.

Deep within the embattled vessel lies a detention level, where three imperials race to their only hope of salvation. Leading them, a dark-skinned woman approaches an intersection. At a glance, her hard eyes define her as much as her impeccable hair and white uniform. Swiftly she approaches the juncture, pauses, and then clears the hallway.

"Agent Windsor, are you certain the commander will fight?" The second woman is tiny and speaks with a flat tone, clear and concisely. Iona could be characterized by her olive skin, grey uniform, or sleek black hair framing her pretty face. Tragically, the thousand-yard stare mutes everything else, hollow and empty. It belongs on a shell-shocked veteran or a corpse.

"Yes," Windsor replies without hesitation.

"It's not like we drugged, betrayed, and locked him away for a year."

Windsor pauses, then frowns at the stormtrooper. She responds, "He's the Grand Commander, Gary, you know it better than me. He'll always answer the call, because he believes, it's his defining trait. Besides, if he doesn't, everyone dies including him."

"What if he beats the crap out of us and saves the ship anyway?"

"At least we'll survive," she mutters absently. Then, after reflecting, the question perplexes her. Realizing Gary's teasing her, she snarls, "Shut up, Gary!"

The wiry and irreverent stormtrooper laughs out loud, unconcerned by her tone. Without his two black shoulder pauldrons and slim form, he's identical to every other Stormtrooper.

BOOM! The ship rattles violently from an impact, all three grab the nearest wall to steady themselves. A moment later the artificial gravity reestablishes control.

"We're back on Endor, aren't we?" Gary asks quietly.

Neither woman answers, the memories rush back, but Windsor pushes them down.

"RAAA!" A huge pirate startles them. He appears from around the corner, swinging an ax. Winsor ducks, rolling away as the blade sinks into the wall with a splash of sparks. Without a word, Iona blasts him in the shoulder, but his mismatched metal armor absorbs it. The huge pirate swats away her pistol and shoves her down the hallway. Windsor aims, only to get kicked and knocked down. The monster raises his ax over his head to finish her.

Gary intercepts, blocking the ax with his carbine, but the sheer force drives him to his knees. Then more pirates appear at the corner; Windsor blasts one and drives back several more.

Iona recovers, seizing her dropped blaster, but hesitates to shoot the axman without risking Gary. Instead, she blasts the joining hallway to pin down the additional pirates.

The enormous pirate seizes Gary's throat with one hand, lifting him off the ground and slamming him against the wall. He gasps as the air is blasted from his lungs, stars dancing in his vision, his blaster clattering to the deck. Choking, Gary wrestles helplessly against the brawny arm of the pirate. The monster laughs at his helplessness, brandishing the ax in one hand, before raising it to strike. The terror, desperation, and horror spark something in Gary. Memories of Endor rush through him, buried deep beneath the ship's routine and his duties as a stormtrooper.

Desperate, Gary embraces that hell. Squeezing his hands together, Gary mimes focusing his emotions, before shoving that power at the monster's chest. Instantly, the huge pirate is hurled back, slamming into the opposite wall with bone-crushing force. The huge beast slumps to the floor. Wild, unnatural currents of wind drive back the other pirates and his fellow imperials.

Gary falls to his knees; breathlessly, but pushes through his fatigue. Seizing his fallen carbine in the chaos, he rolls to the side and blasts a pirate. Shocked, they return fire, but he remains prone. The trooper presents a much smaller target than his enemies standing in the hall.

Barely a moment later, Windsor reaches the corner, peeking around it to add her fire. In seconds several fall, and the remaining pair flee.

Once she's certain they're safe, Windsor demands, "What were you thinking, Gary? You mustn't use your powers! If anyone saw it, if anyone reports it. They'll-"

"What!" Gary snaps, interrupting her, surprising the agent with his nerve. "The Empire is gone, Agent Windsor. Look around you. No inquisitors are coming, no ISB arriving to support your investigation, nor tribunals to sentence me. It's just us!"

Livid, Agent Windsor's lips peel back in fury, but his stance shows no sign of fear. The flippant joker is gone, replaced by a faceless stormtrooper. A veteran soldier armed with the Force. She sees her face reflected in the black lenses of his helmet and it frightens the Imperial agent. Her reputation, her status as an officer of the Imperial Security Bureau, no longer matters.

Her position worsens when Iona faces her, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Gary. Quickly reevaluating, she wonders if it's Gary's new powers, then dismisses it. Nothing has changed in Iona, but she's certain, Windsor stands alone.

"You're welcome, by the way," he grunts. "Now, let's go beg the guy we screwed over."

His words shock her. It takes a moment but she realizes he's referring to blocking the alien's ax blow. She insists, "Taking that blow, protecting me, is your duty. Trooper."

Technically she's correct but at the moment, utterly wrong. Instantly both turn hostile; emotion finally returns to Iona's eyes, and she's disgusted. Gary clenches his fists, shaking with anger. Agent Windsor recognizes she's in real danger, and alone. How did it come to this?

What would the commander do?

"This isn't helping," Windsor blurts out, a little more shaken than she wants to admit. She continues. "I appreciate your help-protecting me,…thank you Gary for saving me."

It's a bitter pill to swallow but Agent Windsor knows she's dancing on a knife's edge. She never realized how much anger simmers among the lower ranks; admittedly, as a member of ISB she never cared about them. She directed them. Men like the Grand Commander managed, trained, and led them. Conceding that point allows her to recognize the problem.

The Imperial Order was a regimental structure, without that vast institution, only fear and loyalty binds everyone together. It's wearing thin; maybe it's already broken.

"The Grand Commander is our only hope," Windsor insists. "We're wasting t—the longer we argue, the less likely we'll survive."

"URrrr," the huge alien removes his helm, revealing his subhuman face. Groaning, he looks up and then snarls hatefully, revealing cracked yellow teeth.

All three blast it. Once it's ash, Windsor says, "Let's get the commander."

"Hold on," Gary replies. He picks up the ax and hooks it on his utility belt. His tone softens, "Maybe we can bribe the commander to help us."

"Or provide the means of our death," Iona whispers ominously.

It doesn't take much to recall how deadly the Grand Commander was with an ax. Windsor pushes the thought aside, motioning for them to follow as she proceeds down the hallway. A few more turns and passages until they reach the blast door. Agent Windsor stares in surprise then reaches for the nearest console, pressing a button.

ZZzzt, zzzzt! The panel is locked out.

She hits the comm, "Agent Windsor to detention block. Unlock and open the blast door."

"State your operating number," Windsor recognizes the voice, but can't place it.

"ISB! Open the door. Now!"

"Negative. State your operating number or this conversation is over."

Windsor shakes her fists in frustration, "2-6-8-5-7-932!"

After a pause and a series of metal clanks, the heavy blast door rumbles aside, then another standard door parts to allow them entry. Before they take a step, they discover four blasters pointed at them. Black-uniformed imperial army hide behind corners with their blasters ready. Without hesitation Windsor storms inside and demands, "Whose in charge here!"

"I am," a uniformed army trooper steps out, wearing a helmet and blast vest.

"Swanson?" Gary calls excitedly. "You're here! You were promoted!"

"Gary? Gary!" The guard steps forward and shakes his hand. "It's been a while. Yeah, I'm the only one with dungeoneer training and we lost our CO over-"

"Swanson," Windsor interrupts. "You know me! Why didn't you open the door?"

"He was following Imperial protocol," a deep voice carries from down the hall. Swanson motions dramatically, and they follow it passed his control station. They enter an octagon-shaped hallway, as he returns to his command post, and the blast door closes behind them. "You may have been under duress, a captive, or impersonated by the enemy."

Gary and Iona halt at the door but Windsor freezes just before entering. Instead of a spartan cell, they discover it full of technical datapads, strategic vids, and a Y-Wing holographic breakdown. Against the far wall, the Grand Commander sits regally in a padded chair.

He appears as a white armored stormtrooper with a unique pauldron, a black shoulder pad with crimson Imperial cog. Physical power radiates from him even sitting, but it's dwarfed by his presence. Three steps descend into his cell; the trio enters from a position of strength, looking down on him. Yet, no one crosses the threshold, and Windsor realizes they lost the initiative.

The Grand Commander leans back, relaxing, then motions to them. "Come in."

"This is nicer than my barracks," Gary enters first. "This is nicer than my CO's quarters."

The commander chuckles, "It's good to see you again, Gary. You too, Iona."

Windsor watches Iona express feelings for a heartbeat. For only the barest moment, the emptiness softens when Iona asks, "Where did you get all this…stuff?"

"I spend most of my time training, teaching strategy, and career counseling."

"Wha-career counseling?" Gary laughs.

"You haven't been idle," Windsor states the obvious.

"Who cares you're locked up?" Gary points out. "Why would you enjoy some time off?"

Two guards silently position themselves at the entrance. Suddenly, reality slaps Agent Windsor hard. She hisses, "Swanson at the door, disciplined troopers, all of this…you aren't imprisoned. This is your personal bunker."

"…and you walked right in," Swanson calls from down the hall. Someone outside the cell laughs, and the dungeoneer adds. "You're losing your edge, Agent Windsor."

An impact distracts them, shaking the Inveitable, offering her an opportunity.

"We need your help," Windsor opens. "The Inevitable is in jeopardy."

"This isn't the first time, Captain Winter," he replies calmly, using the name he knew her by. "If the Admiral needed me, he would have had me brought to him, not sent you three."

"The Admiral isn't in command," she counters and he freezes. "When the ship made an emergency drop from hyperspace, he was thrown into the crew pits and knocked unconscious. He's in medical. Captain Shilling took command but this battle is beyond him."

Iona insists, "We need you, sir."

He motions dismissively; after a year, she expected resistance. She expected fury and maybe even violence but indifference surprises her. Worse, she can't threaten him. Unquestionably, the guards will support him instead of her, only weakening her position.

"I brought you a gift, sir," Gary holds up the ax he took from the pirate.

Still, he remains unmoved, so Agent Windsor uses her last card.

"We're fighting Thalassians-"

The commander launches to his feet so quickly, they flinch. He snatches the ax from Gary's hands, growling, "We need to get to the bridge."

Swanson appears behind and above them outside the cell, "We're with you, sir."

The Grand Commander shakes his head, "I don't have the authority yet, Swanson. Lock down the cells, coordinate local defenses, lower power to standby, and wait for my call."

"Sir, we need to move now, there's pirates all over the ship."

"Remember," the Grand Commander places a hand on Swanson's shoulder solemnly. "Good soldiers follow orders."