Chapter 9
The turbolift door whooshes open and Captain Keel steps onto the bridge's security foyer. Earlier, fear and panic ruled. The admiral was unconscious and Agent Windsor argued with Captain Shilling, loudly and publicly. It frightened the ranks, created chaos, and frustrated Keel. Now, the imperials work quietly and efficiently…but there are no guards.
"Where's TK13124?" He asks. No one speaks, one of the comm techs looks over her shoulder at him. She covers her microphone. "TK13124, where is he?"
"Kyle?"
"TK13124," Captain Keel insists sharply.
"Yes, yes sir," she replies quickly. "He's on the battlecruiser with the commander."
"Any updates?"
"The commander took engineering; scanners confirm the ship's reactor has shut down. Now, his team is moving to the bridge but we believe the battlecruiser is jamming comms."
Amazing, the captain admits. "If there are any further updates, contact me."
"Yes, sir."
The captain turns right and heads down the main corridor but spots a protocol droid exiting the ship's information central. This isn't unusual, but Captain Keel knows all of the droids authorized for it. He doesn't recognize this one and his anxiety explodes.
"You!" He points forcefully before moderating his tone. "Identify yourself."
"Oh, oh I'm sorry, sir." The droid replies quickly. "I am CQB6 human cyborg rela-"
"I know you're a protocol droid," Keel interrupts. "What were you doing in the ship's information central? You're not authorized to be in there."
"Yes, sir, you are correct but I hoped to help with processing data or communication."
"That's not a comm room," Keel counters. "That's the database for the whole ship."
"Yes, sir, but no one required my services. I am not built for combat and I lack an astromech's tools. Therefore, the optimal use for me is data analysis, unless-"
"Very well," the captain says skeptically. "Go to the main shuttle bay. Agent Windsor wants to interrogate the prisoners. She'll need a translator."
"Oh, very good, sir! Uh…is that safe? The pirates-"
"They're dead, now be on your way." Blasted protocol droids, they'll talk your ears off.
Captain Keel dismisses thoughts of the droid, turning left into the officer meeting room. Inside, Captain Shilling sits at the head of the large rectangular table. What the hell is he doing in the admiral's chair? As Keel enters, the officers within argue fiercely, and a dozen voices overlap. Captain Wyndt rubs his temple, obviously frustrated. Behind him, Lt Verdan tries to follow the conversation, sitting among a tightly packed ring of lesser officers.
"Captain Keel! Excellent, come join us," Captain Shilling calls. The conversation halts and everyone freezes before they appraise him. The silence compounds his anxiety. Shilling motions sharply and a lieutenant jumps to his feet, freeing a chair. Numerous captains in grey, white, and black surround the table. Most of them are nonessential, one runs water purification, and another is the head of the cafeterias. Worse, the chair offered isn't his…Captain Keel's chair is on the admiral's left. It's currently occupied by the head of the commissary.
Did they even fight? Captain Keel can't help but notice how clean they are, even Wyndt and Verdan, freshly scrubbed. Keel's armor is stained with scratches, dents, and a scorch mark.
"Thank you, I'll stand," Keel replies. "My time is limited. I've organized reinforcements for the battlecruiser; although, I don't think it will be necessary. If I'm right, they can be rerouted to join the repair crews. I've pulled techs from nonessential sectors for assistance too."
Their sudden pause worried Captain Keel, but the tense silence that follows petrifies him. The officers won't look at him. Shilling's smile is strained and Lieutenant Verdan stares at the floor. He's rarely seen so many officers for a meeting, and never so silent.
Captain Shilling begins, "We have…concerns."
"Just spit it out, captain," Keel stresses with as much respect as he can muster. "We have hours of repairs before we can jump. Not to mention how many dead and injured we've suffered. I don't have time for concerns; I only have time for life-threatening disasters."
Captain Wyndt covers a laugh with a cough but most of the officers appear indignant. Shilling's gaze darts, uncomfortably, "We must decide what to do about HIM."
Keel is too disciplined to groan, but too irritated to stay still, so he folds his arms.
"With the Admiral injured, we cannot let him do whatever HE wants."
"He's too chaotic," the water purifier officer adds.
"There is a way things work and he has no respect for it," Shilling nods to the officer supporting him before continuing. "We have to…reign him in."
"If we're imprisoning the Grand Commander at least have the courage to use his title." Captain Wyndt snarls. "What superstitious nonsense is this?"
Captain Keel's lips peel back. His stress transforms into disgust; he's shocked by the betrayal. It's a total subversion of imperial order to supplant the commander. Discussing it is an insult to everyone who fought. Captain Keel is thankful his expressions are hidden by his helmet.
"How could you 'reign in', the Grand Commander?" He emphasizes the title.
"We appreciate your support," Shilling relaxes, mistaking his query for consent, missing it completely. "The commander and his troops are on the cruiser. We offer to allow his return but only if he relinquishes command and returns to his cell. Or we leave him on the battlecruiser."
"What about his men?" Imperials betraying imperials, no wonder we lost.
"Didn't he take them all with him?" One captain asks rhetorically.
Captain Shilling continues, "Some may remain but I trust your ability to manage them. Naturally, your loyalty will be compensated. I know that leaves Agent Windsor. She's dangerous but I believe she'll see reason once we've restored control."
"…and Master Sergeant Serrano?" He notices their blank looks. "…the royal guard."
"Contain him," the captain of the commissary in Keel's seat says. "He's one man."
Keel snorts, it slips out at first. But the more he thinks about it, the harder he laughs until he's roaring. He can't help it; it's too much. He tries to resist but the crushing weight of the day erodes his willpower. This delusional statement snaps what little he has left.
Nervous looks pass among the officers while Captain Shilling gives him a stern look. Keel has seen that look terrify junior officers and enlisted, but he recognizes the fear behind it. Restraining himself, Keel steps forward. The officers flinch. He spins the seat offered, and sits with it reversed. Captain Wyndt leans back, stiffly and Keel knows he's gripping his blaster.
"Too many of you haven't seen combat and it shows," Keel declares wearily before adding. "I think he knew you'd betray him. The Grand Commander split his men, leaving a platoon to defend the Inevitable led by the royal guard. Windsor, well, no one trusts ISB but Serrano will fight. You need to understand two things. One, I'll do it. Not for reward, or you, but for the Admiral. Two. If Serrano fights, there is nothing any of us can do to stop him."
Weak denials and sputtering replies die on the officers' lips.
"I have seen him fight. He could kill us all by himself," Keel continues. "Our enlisted will follow him as soon as they see that red armor, even before this battle. It's drilled into them from the first day of training. After this battle, after the commander turned the tide, we'll face opposition from every section. I urge you to reconsider."
"The Inevitable will not survive it."
Captain Keel and the rest of the officers jump to their feet at the sound of the voice.
"You might not be willing to join me," the redhead declares, baring her teeth. "But I'll die before I go back. How many of you are willing to risk capturing me?"
The Grand Commander watches the imperial forces shift as the grey man moves through their ranks. Moira shrinks back, cursing, "Ack, the Draugr, you're following him?"
"I'm killing Thalassians."
"You wake up and start killing, but won't join us when we capitalize on your break out. Now, you're following Imperials? What the hell?"
The grey man remains silent. Moira's eyes dart and the commander realizes she's appraising them and the forces arrayed before her, then peeks at the huge creature.
"I'm not putting anyone in chains," the commander announces. While she studies his unit, he examines her. The fresh scar on her face, her bloody hands, and her fierce tone define her well. "We're taking this ship. Help us, and you'll fly out of here, instead of getting dropped off."
"I'm not following some imp," she spits. "I certainly won't serve someone who fights in a giant robot; I bet I could take you in a real fight."
The imperials laugh at her, surprising Moira.
"Screw the slaves," the stormtrooper officer growls. "Let's take the bridge."
"Sir," Gary stops them. "Remember how you took command of the compound?"
Swanson points, "Heh, you beat Caizor and me and killed that stormtrooper."
The Grand Commander reflects, not my fondest memory.
"Wait," the scout officer looks around. "That story is true?"
"You took command with a fistfight?" The incendiary trooper exclaims. "Awesome!"
"We're wasting time," the stormtrooper officer grumbles.
The grey man scowls, folding his arms. The big alien and the girl's expressions drop, disheartened. The small blue-furred alien pleads with a look, no longer fighting her grip.
Moira's fierce eyes blaze with manic desperation. Maybe it's a desire to die on her feet instead of chains, or a misplaced belief she'll come out on top. The look is gripping. He's seen it before in the trenches of Mimban, and the dying on a thousand battlefields.
"I'll take that bet," the Grand Commander responds, clicking the button to open his hatch. The assault armor hisses as the seal is broken. "Moira?"
"Yeah?" Moira asks, then grins and releases the little alien; he flails wildly. "Hell yeah!"
"Gary guard my armor, space troopers on the two hallways, back against the walls."
"What?" Iona looks sharply at him. "Sir! I don't think this is wise."
Even in the gravity-free hallway, the magnetic footsteps of the assault armor thump toward the intersection. The imperials chatter quickly, excited and concerned alike.
The scout officer shakes his head. The stormtrooper officer grunts, "This is insane, sir."
"Sir, Agent Windsor would never agree," Iona argues. "What happens if you lose?"
"Follow her," the commander points at Moira. He floats out of the assault armor, pulling his way to the deck in zero-G, before activating his magnetic boots. "Command is built on trust, trust depends on respect, and respect is earned. You didn't have a choice on Endor but you didn't have to come to the docking bay. You trusted me to get you through the battle."
Iona moves closer and gives him a serious glare, he whispers, "I trust Gary's instinct."
Naturally, Gary sits on the commander's armor and kicks his feet like a child. The Grand Commander sighs and Iona throws her arms up in frustration, then shoves Gary off the assault armor. He squeals, flailing his arms, and floating helplessly before bumping into a stormtrooper.
The former slaves stare at the chuckling imperials as if they're mad.
"How do you want to do this?" Moira asks brazenly. "Bare hands, knives or-"
The commander draws his ax and enters the spotlight. Her confidence wilts, examining his damaged armor and the blood-stained ax. She's a towering female, taller than most of his stormtroopers. Moira recovers quickly, trying to hide it but his troops notice, ridiculing her.
"You know," she glances at his boots. "It's unfair you have magnetic boots and I don't."
"Somehow I doubt that will be a problem," he points at the dead Trandoshan.
She smiles, backs up a step, and places a bare foot against the wall. Lightning-quick, she launches herself at him. Impossible in normal gravity but in Zero-G she spins as she swings the spiked club at his head. Slowed by the magnetic boots, he waits to seize her club, but he's too close to swing the ax. He hurls a straight punch but she slips it, before slugging him with her own. It connects with his helmet without any real power and his boots lock him in place.
Momentum pushes her into him, so she kicks off his waist, yanking at her captured club. She startles him with her strength and speed but his fingers hold fast. Anchored by his magnetic boots he jerks his whole body down, violently altering her trajectory, and pulling her back towards him. She can't evade as he surges up, slamming his helmet into her head. Stunned, she grabs his shoulders only to discover his ax blade at her throat. She freezes, staring.
"YES!" His unit roars with approval, several clapping or cheering.
Cursing loudly she yells, "Lucky shot! Double or nothing?"
"Absolutely not," he laughs at her offer. Her spiked club floats in the air nearby. Angrily, she wipes the bubble of blood, smearing it across her face. Still, he senses something lingers, unresolved. His troops take the win but they were already his; the slaves look disappointed.
He turns to Gary, then up at Iona, and she gives him a hard look, "Don't you dare!"
He glances at the grey man, who looks bored. The blue-furred alien appears sad and resigned. The other two, the giant creature and the Twi'lek slump in disappointment.
"Double or nothing?" The Grand Commander's question catches everyone off-guard, both sides looking at him in disbelief. Even the grey man turns, surprised.
The fire returns to Moira's eyes and she excitedly asks, "Raise the stakes?"
"The club isn't your weapon," the commander points out. "Someone give her a blade."
There's a tense pause, then both sides roar excitedly. Dozens of weapons are offered to her, surprising Moira. She looks over the variety of blades, bayonets, and daggers.
"Do you trust your commander this much or are you hoping he's killed?"
"Yes!" Gary replies, causing the crowd to chuckle.
Iona reaches down and smacks Gary before hissing at the commander, "Sir!"
"Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Iona. Look at the slaves," he whispers to her. "They're defeated, hopeless, and we're not far from it. If we lost, we would've joined them. Moira's spirit is hanging by a thread but she's willing to fight. We need more of that!"
"He's right," Gary insists, leaning close. "There's something about her."
He can't read Iona's expression behind her helmet but her posture screams, NO.
Moira runs her hands over several weapons but chooses a slim dagger. A wicked grin crosses her face as she flips it then snatches it by the handle blade pointed down. "If I win?"
"Full resupply, a decent transport," he motions to the slaves, "-for you and your crew."
She can't resist smiling, then demands, "If I lose?"
"You join the Empire; you put your heart and soul into serving the galaxy."
"As an officer?" She asks, skeptically. "Leading a crew of my own?"
"Hell no." Then he adds playfully, "You'll start at the bottom, cleaning refreshers."
Anger flares in her eyes, then narrow before she smirks. "Deal!"
Both sides celebrate as the combatants reexamine each other. The commander crouches, hobbled by the magnetic boots. Moira uses her bare feet to float guardedly across the decking. The commander knows she learned her lesson the first time. She won't go for a quick kill.
Moira remains still for a long pause, then surges forward, her dagger plunging downward. He steps forward, reaching for her arm but she changes direction, nearly impaling his hand. He jerks it back, as she plants both feet and jumps, kneeing him in the head. Before he can react, she grabs him and knees him again. Stars blind him and darkness creeps in at the edge of his vision.
For a heartbeat, he flashes back to Endor. The Ewok chieftain he fought on a pile of corpses stands over him. The memory enflames him; the commander clenches his teeth.
He blocks a thrust before hurling her weightless body straight up. Surprised, she twists, planting her feet on the ceiling. Then launches herself back at him, switching her hold on her dagger, leading with the point. Fury throbbing within him, he sidesteps off the dagger's trajectory, catching her hand and anticipating her knee. She's too close to hack, so he swings the ax across his body, whacking both her wrists and breaking her hold.
She cries out, and her dagger comes loose, spinning harmlessly in midair. Pushing her further away, he swings. The crowd gasps and then roars excitedly when she ducks.
Frantically, she grabs his ax with both hands, before pressing her feet against his chest. Using her whole body, she tears it free. With his left hand, he snatches the spiked club she used earlier and swings will all his might. Wiggling until a foot catches the deck, she pushes herself back. The club passes so close to her face that it catches stray red hairs and tears them free.
Holding the ax, Moira licks her lips, forcing a smile. "Ready to give up?"
"Easy, sir," Iona warns him. "She's no use dead."
He doesn't care. His headache from her knee, memories of Endor, and a year wasted in a cell enflame him. The Lightfoot chieftain appears before him. All of the dead on Endor and leading up to this moment. Desperation, pain, and grief create a toxic mix fueling his rage.
She moves slowly, ax gripped in both hands. A few steps away, her feet touch the deck, and she lunges. He intercepts her, wrapping an arm around both of hers, trapping them. He slams his head into her face. Then punches her once, twice, and a third time. Her feet scramble as she tries to free herself, losing strength with each hit. Furiously, he rolls her over his hip.
"Sir!" Gary screams frantically. "Stop!"
Face to face, the commander notices her terror, and doesn't care. Yet, Gary's voice pierces his rage. It's only at that moment he comprehends what he's planning.
Suddenly, Moira uses his hesitation to kick the vibrodagger floating nearby. She catches it but even with her arms caught, she wiggles enough to press it against his neck.
"I win," she declares to the gasps and groans of his command.
"…so you do," he whispers. Where did that come from? The grand commander releases her, and she puts a hand down. I haven't been that angry since-he recalls the shadowstone.
"Best two out of three?" Moira interrupts, she smiles but there's fear in her eyes.
I can't risk it; the commander shakes his head. "A deal is a deal, double or nothing. Listen up, you will stick with us for now. Do you know the way to the bridge?"
"Yes," Moira nods quickly, relief clear as day on her face.
"I swear you'll get what you're owed. Lead us to the bridge so we can finish taking this ship. The two noncombatants return to engineering."
Moira points angrily at the blue-furred alien, "I ain't done with him. Hear that Waa Kee?"
The grand commander reaches towards her. She jerks away, raising the ax and dagger defensively. He waits a moment, then slowly picks up the spiked club he meant to impale her on.
Her bright blue eyes widen, darting from club to him, and back again.