EPISODE V

The Crucible

Commandant Deenlark certainly had not been kidding about the intensity of the training that Luke and the others would be undergoing. From the very first morning, a loud klaxon blared to jolt everyone awake and out of bed to run several laps around the Sky Loop. Obstructed from view when entering from the front, the Sky Loop was a long, tube-like running track that wound around and around one of the spires on the roof of the building. From the very apex of the Loop, Luke could see just how large the campus and its various facilities were, as well as a breathtaking view of beautiful, gleaming Coruscant at dawn. Miles and miles of city skyline as far as he could see in every direction. Not that he ever had more than a few seconds to look before they were made to run back down. Everyone was included on the run, from fresh recruits like Luke to those preparing to graduate and become officers. If you were unfortunate enough to straggle behind then you would be shot. Not lethally, of course, it was simply as a motivator. The blasters' power had been lowered to avoid any long-term damage. Still, even low-level blaster bolts could have dangerous effects if they accumulated, so it was generally for the best not to fall behind.

After the morning run, everyone was marched into the showers, which seemed to run on a timer as far as Luke could tell. On his second day there, he'd wound up going to the mess hall with cleaning gel still left in his hair and had to try and wash it out in a sink later in the day. Shockingly, while the body suits did absorb sweat, they didn't actually seem to retain any of it, so he could just put it back on after the run without worrying about body odor. The wonders of technology.

It was in the mess hall on the first day at the academy that Luke experienced yet another case of bizarre culture shock at breakfast. The actual food on his tray was perfectly normal, Iktotch toast with syrup and Nilluk strips. In fact, it was nicer than what he usually had to eat back on Tatooine. It was what he was expected to drink that gave him… pause.

"What is this?" he asked, mostly to himself as he picked up the clear plastic cup, staring at the strange white liquid.

"You've never seen milk before?" the cadet sitting directly across from him at the table answered. She was around Luke's age and had dark skin, green eyes, and curly black hair that was currently up in a ponytail. She looked at Luke curiously with the smallest smirk on her lips.

"Well sure I have," Luke replied, "But this isn't milk. Milk isn't white."

"Yes it is," said the young man sitting to the first girl's left. He had pale skin, though not to the near-white degree that Lancer Creel had, dark blue eyes, and reddish-blond hair that seemed to lift up into the air on its own in defiance of gravity. At least, Luke had to assume that it was of its own will. He didn't imagine cadets were allowed something as vain as hair care products. "Or all the milk I've ever seen is, anyway."

"Well, every glass of milk I've ever drank was blue," Luke retorted.

"Blue?" the pair asked in unified confusion.

"Where are you from, anyway?" the girl asked.

"Tatooine," Luke stated matter-of-factly, with no real degree of pride.

"Small galaxy! We're from the Outer Rim, too," she explained while pointing at herself and the young man next to her. "We're from Jeluca."

"Huh, how about that," Luke remarked, mildly surprised, a small smile curling at his lips. He'd started to worry he wouldn't run into anyone from the Outer Rim. "I'm Luke Starkiller," he introduced himself while reaching his hand across the table.

"Ciena Ree," she replied, reaching with her own hand to shake Luke's.

"And I'm Thane Kyrell," the other said, shaking Luke's hand as well. "So what did you enter the academy to do?"

"I want to be a pilot," Luke told them eagerly. "Or a Stormtrooper, maybe. Something to get my feet on the ground, get in the action."

"Us, too," Thane said with a grin. "Well, pilots, anyway. Maybe we'll end up in the same squadron," he offered with a smile.

Luke smiled back and nodded, taking a hesitant sip of the so-called "milk." It did taste nearly identical to the milk that he was used to! There was a certain something missing, though. It was hard to pin exactly. So whatever they were getting their milk from for the academy, it wasn't a bantha.

"Hey, he lived!" Ciena teased as Luke set his cup down. She and Thane laughed and Luke rolled his eyes even as he grinned.

"I don't recall seeing either of your names in the fifty applicants that made it in yesterday, though."

"Oh, we were already here," Ciena told him. "We've been getting ready for this moment for years. We started our training as kids at the Academy for Young Imperials before graduating and winding up here. In a couple more months, we'll be flying TIE Fighters," she said proudly.

"It's a bit of a give-and-take," Thane explained. "We get more time overall to learn more and, supposedly, those who go through the AYI have a fast track to becoming officers and getting promoted faster." Well, that didn't bother Luke too much. He had no real interest in becoming a Lieutenant or an Admiral or whatever and ordering others off to go risk their lives from the safety of the bridge. "On the other hand, because we've been preparing for this for so long, the expectation is much higher."

"You know," Ciena pointed out, "You're not really supposed to be sitting with us, then, newbie." The color drained from Luke's face when she said that. Oh, no. Oh, this was bad. Had he broken a rule? Was he going to receive a demerit on his first day? Ciena held his gaze with a stern look for about six seconds before she and Thane cracked up laughing. "I'm kidding," Ciena assured him, "I'm kidding. You're too fun to mess with, Starkiller."

"I need to make sure I hang out with you more," Thane added, "It'll give her a target besides me every now and then." The three of them laughed and made other light small talk while they ate breakfast and it all put Luke in a pretty good mood.

That wouldn't last.

Luke left the mess hall a few minutes early just so he could be ahead of schedule on his way to his first class. This was partly because he wanted to make a good impression on the instructors here but he did have an ulterior motive. Luke had a smile as he entered the classroom, Datapad in hand, putting his feet together smartly and saluting the officer sitting at the desk in the front of the classroom.

"At ease, cadet," Sergeant Triosa Broog told him, "Class doesn't start for another five minutes." An older dark-skinned woman with grays streaking through the temples of her short-cropped black hair, Sergeant Broog would be teaching Luke's class about the TIE-class starships they might one day be flying, from the various models, their history of manufacture, how to repair and maintain their ships in a variety of situations, and most importantly of all, monitoring them during flight simulations. "Why are you here early, anyway, Cadet…?"

"Starkiller, Ma'am," Luke answered, standing slightly at ease but still keeping his back straight, remembering what the officer at the door had told him the day before about his posture. "Luke Starkiller from Tatooine. It's only that I saw the record of recent graduates on a wall in one of the hallways on the way to my dormitory last night. I have a friend who went to the Academy ahead of me and I didn't see his name. I… I wanted to make sure he was alright," Luke admitted.

Sergeant Broog gave the slightest of nods. "An admirable concern," she allowed while tapping at the screen implanted in her desk. "What's your friend's name? I'll see if I can check the records for what happened to him."

"Thank you, Ma'am. His name is Biggs Darklighter." Sergeant Broog stopped typing and looked up at Luke, her eyes narrowing. "Ma'am?"

"Biggs Darklighter?" she echoed as she stood up from her desk. "That's your friend's name?" She started walking toward Luke and he gave a swallow as he nodded, feeling more than a touch nervous. What had he said? What could Biggs have done? "I do think I remember your friend," she told him in a way that was not very reassuring. "Smart, confident, good pilot. Also from Tatooine. With the mustache, right?" Luke nodded again. She was now directly in front of Luke and it turned out that she was noticeably taller than him. "What happened to Biggs Darklighter is that he graduated with honors and then turned around and joined the Rebellion." Luke's heart dropped down into his stomach. No, that couldn't be Biggs. There had to be a mistake! "So your friend is out there now, flying an A-Wing or a Y-Wing or some such, and killing Imperial soldiers." She squinted at Luke. "Does that surprise you, Cadet Starkiller?"

"Y-yes Ma'am."

"Does it bother you?"

"Y-yes Ma'am."

"Is that going to be a problem?"

"Ma'am?" Luke asked, unsure of what the correct answer was supposed to be.

"Are you going to be a problem, Outer Rim boy?" she asked sharply, leaning over and getting right in Luke's personal space. "Are you going to take advantage of the Empire's good nature, our need for able bodies and sharp minds, our advanced facilities, and then run off to join your friend?"

"No, Ma'am!" Luke insisted.

"Is it going to be a problem for you if one day your paths cross and you'll need to kill your friend to save your fellow officers?" Sergeant Broog demanded in an icy tone.

"N… no, Ma'am," Luke promised. He hesitated. Why had he hesitated? "Biggs… Biggs is a traitor. As an Imperial Pilot, I know what must be done with traitors." Sergeant Broog's expression did not soften as she stepped out of Luke's space and nodded.

"We shall see," was all she said. "Take your seat, Cadet Starkiller." Luke nodded and quickly moved to sit down at one of the long lecture benches, sitting down on the first level nearest to the front of the classroom. So much for making a good first impression.

OoOoOoO

Despite the rocky start to his first day of classes, Luke worked hard to distinguish himself. For whatever reason, the majority of his instructors seemed to be particularly strict on Luke from the outset. Maybe it was because he was from Tatooine, or just from the Outer Rim, or maybe Sergeant Broog had told some of them about his connection to Biggs Darklighter. Whatever it was, it didn't matter to Luke. He would simply work that much harder to prove himself to them and prove that he belonged.

While Luke initially did well in practical courses such as weapon operation and maintenance, military tactics and strategy, or flight simulation, he did struggle in some courses that had less practical military purposes, as far as he could tell. He just had trouble grasping the information and its relevance to him. Why, for instance, was it so necessary for him to learn about Pre-Imperial Core World History, or Art Appreciation, or Music Theory? Thankfully, Thane had been able to explain to him that all of these courses were necessary to his education and development not just as a soldier but as a representative of the Empire for the galaxy.

"It's about learning what it meant to be an Imperial. About the culture and the civilization we're fighting to protect and preserve from the Rebellion or from whatever else might be lurking in the shadows of space."

With the proper motivation and context, within his first month at the Academy, Luke was soon handling a Seven-string hallikset as well as he handled a blaster rifle, and understood the political significance of the reforms Emperor Palpatine had done to curtail the corruption and indolence of the Republic when forming the Empire as well as he understood the successes and failures of the Empire at the Battle of Mantooine. He'd also developed a knack for mechanical engineering and upkeep. A useful accident of his time on Tatooine, where the idea of simply buying new technology was a luxury. There was always some equipment or droid that needed to be repaired or maintained, which gave Luke plenty of experience. While he knew his destiny was out in the field of combat, he also knew that it would be useful to be able to repair gear or vehicles on the fly, or even a fellow soldier's damaged prosthetic.

One of the other sticking points of Luke's education, something that earned him an equal measure of approval and annoyance from his fellow cadets, was the flight simulators. Not in simulated team conflicts or even in dogfights, though there were more than a few of his classmates and even senior cadets who got annoyed that Luke won far more often than he lost and was always near the top of the leaderboard for the simulator, no, the issue was one particular simulation scenario.

Called "The Hero's Final Stand", the simulation involved the pilot in a lone TIE Fighter, separated from the rest of their squadron and with no way to contact Imperial ships for assistance, vastly outnumbered by Rebellion ships. Outgunned and outflanked, the simulation was supposed to be a lesson in being willing to sacrifice your life for the Empire. Either by being able to figure out which pilots were leading the Rebellion starfighters and taking them out, doing significant damage to the capital ships, or destroying vital Rebellion support crafts. Any of these were viable options to "winning" the simulation before the cadet's TIE was eventually blown to pieces. Some did terribly, some did better, but everyone at least seemed to understand the fundamental principle of the assignment and what it was supposed to teach.

Everyone except Luke. He would go into the simulator again and again, at every available opportunity, pouring hours into "The Hero's Final Stand." Always a different approach, always a new strategy. Trying to solve a puzzle that, by its very nature, was not meant to be solved.

"How many times do we have to go over this, Starkiller?" Sergeant Broog asked, pinching the bridge of her nose with a sigh while Luke climbed out of the simulator. "There is no 'winning' when it comes to 'The Final Stand'. The whole point is being able to accept that your time has run out and figuring out how best to give that time to the Empire."

"My apologies, Sergeant," Luke said while wiping the sweat from his face, "But I just can't accept it. I know I'm more useful to the Empire alive than dead." It was the sort of smug remark that Broog would normally give someone a demerit for insubordination. But Luke was so obviously, painfully sincere when he said it that Sergeant Broog just sighed again and shook her head.

"Dismissed," she told Luke as she waved him off. "Hurry up and get to the mess hall before I have you court martialed for giving me a headache." Luke smiled and gave her a salute before turning and leaving. Broog still had one eye on Starkiller. She didn't trust him. She just wished he didn't make it so easy to like him.

The other area where Luke was having… not exactly difficulties, but definitely a unique experience, was in the close quarters combat training course. Classes were varied in their daily activities but they always included some form of strength or endurance-building exercise, studying forms of close quarters combat either from reading or from watching holovids, combat drills, and sparring. Some days it was hand-to-hand, other days they'd use staffs, axes, swords, or even whips. All of them were dull or softened to avoid the cadets seriously damaging one another, of course. Or at least, no one was supposed to damage each other.

Most cadets used the CQC class to blow off steam, whether it was with regards to personal troubles or when they were struggling with other courses. Luke himself was no angel, he'd certainly gone a little more aggressive than he needed to be from time to time. But he'd never willingly tried to injure one of his fellow cadets.

Lancer Creel was a different story. Every time he sparred with someone, it seemed like he was letting out all of the anger he felt from the fact that he wasn't an officer already. Any time he sparred with an Outer Rim inhabitant like Luke, he seemed to be particularly vicious. But on the off chance that he were to spar with an alien, he was somehow worse.

Nearly a month into Luke's time at the Academy, Lancer shared the main sparring mat with a yellow-scaled Trandoshan where they fought with staffs. As a rule, Trandoshans were normally bigger and stronger than humans, but this one was particularly undersized and was, if anything, slightly shorter than Luke. That might have been why they had enlisted in the academy rather than becoming a bounty hunter or mercenary like Trandoshans often did. In fact, they were one of the only aliens in Luke's class of cadets and Lancer was letting them know exactly how he felt about that. Lancer's blows came savage and swift, breaking through the Trandoshan's defensive blocks and quickly overwhelming them with his vicious attack, battering their ribs and even smacking them in the face.

"What did you think you were going to prove?" Lancer demanded between swings. "That you belong here? That you're part of our empire?" He spat. Lancer slammed his staff down on their wrists and they cried out in pain as they dropped the staff. "Come on, you!" Lancer snapped as he pressed the attack, even as the Trandoshan curled up to try and protect itself. "You've got claws! You've got teeth! Fight, you stupid animal!"

The most disturbing thing for Luke was that everyone was just… watching this. None of his fellow cadets acted, except for the friends Lancer had made since classes had begun, or those that agreed with him. Even Sergeant Modriss said nothing, his mouth invisible behind the large red mustache that connected to his sideburns and his implacable Serrenian brow betrayed no emotion. Everyone acted like this was fine.

Finally, Luke objected. He objected with his own staff cracking across the small of Lancer's back to get his attention. The Correllian cried out in shock and wheeled around to glare at him. "Mind your business, Starkiller," Lancer warned him. "You'll get your turn."

"He's already beaten," Luke pointed out as he glared right back. "I figured you'd prefer an actual challenge. Or do you only spar with those who don't hit back?" he taunted, drawing an "Ooooh" from several of the other cadets. Lancer let out a huff of breath and pushed a few loose strands of silver-white hair back out of his face.

"Fine," he let out in an irritated hiss, "You've had this lesson coming for a while, too." Luke really couldn't tell what he'd done to make Lancer hate him like this. Though to be honest, it wasn't like he didn't reciprocate the feeling. Every time he'd lorded a wrong answer in history or art over Luke's head, Luke would seethe, and every time he felt Lancer's frustration at Luke beating him on the shooting range or shooting him down in the simulations, Luke would feel just a little smug. The two remained neck-and-neck at the top of their class all throughout the month.

Lancer twirled his staff and held it at the center with both hands while Luke moved both hands down to grip the staff at one end and held it up like a sword. The air sizzled with tension for a few moments before the Correllian struck first, lunging forward with a downward sweep aimed at Luke's ankles. Luke leaped up over the attack and raised his staff high before swinging down hard. For half a moment, Luke saw shock in Lancer's eyes before he swung his staff up to block the strike, his hands spread wide as he was made to bend his knees under the force of Luke's blow. He shoved Luke back hard and made a jab for his stomach, but Luke spun around the attack and smashed his staff against Lancer's ribs. Lancer cried out in pain but swallowed it down and pivoted his feet to jab one end of his staff hard into the side of Luke's jaw, just below his temple. His vision swam for a moment and even though he couldn't see, Luke somehow felt Lancer's attack coming and bent backward, feeling the savage swing breeze directly over his face. Luke still managed to get out a counterattack before his vision returned to normal and stuck out his foot, hooking it into the back of one of Lancer's legs and bringing him to one knee. Luke didn't capitalize, instead taking a few steps back as the world stopped spinning and spit out a gob of bloody spit onto the floor. He adjusted his grip on his staff as Lancer got back to his feet and they glared at one another again.

This time it was Luke making the first move, swinging down from high to low with an attack aimed at Lancer's hip. Lancer moved his staff down to deflect only for Luke to swiftly change direction, catching Lancer with the feint and bringing his staff down hard on the shoulder that he'd left exposed. Lancer buckled but didn't lose his grip and responded with an unceremonious headbutt across the bridge of Luke's nose. Again, Luke staggered and saw stars, and Lancer charged in with a stab from his staff aimed directly at Luke's throat. He roared and so did Luke.

No one really believed what happened next, even as it happened in front of them.

Luke knocked the blow to one side while pivoting to Lancer's flank in the same motion. His blows came with a speed and a strength no one expected. He struck Lancer viciously on the shoulder, hip, thigh, and knee, and hit the top of his head with a loud "Crack!" He smashed the staff down on Lancer's wrist hard enough to make the Correllian cry out in pain and lose his grip. Luke shot out one hand to grab the staff and rip it from Lancer's grip as he kicked him in the stomach hard enough to drive the wind out of him, then kneed him to bring him down to his knees. Luke whirled both staffs around and brought them down to cross at Lancer's throat. Those indigo eyes looked up at Luke with hatred, surprise, and just a tinge of panic. Luke glared back down at him, lips curled into a snarl, chest heaving.

The sergeant's whistle snapped both cadets to attention. "That's quite enough, Cadet Starkiller," Modriss warned him. "Help Creel to his feet." Even as he dropped the staffs and held out his hand for Lancer, an angry voice in the back of his head reminded Luke that he hadn't done nearly as much to Lancer as the other had done to the Trandoshan cadet.

A small trickle of blood ran down the center of Lancer's forehead and he looked at Luke's hand in disgust, batting it away. "This isn't over, Starkiller," he promised as he got to his feet.

Luke shrugged. "It is for today," he breathed out with a small smirk before walking right past him and over to the Trandoshan, who stood huddled in the corner, trying as hard as possible to make themselves invisible. "Are you alright?" he asked in Dosh. The Trandoshan did a double-take, clearly not expecting to hear a human speak their native language. "I'm from Tatooine," Luke explained with a slight smile. "Run into all sorts there. Learn to pick up a few things." Obviously his Galactic Basic was better than his Dosh, but he was trying to put the other at ease. "Name?" he asked as he held out a hand.

"I am called Crask," the Trandoshan explained as they reached out a clawed hand and shook Luke's in return. "Why would you stand up for me? Why would you care?"

"Same team," Luke reminded Crask with a small smile as he gestured back and forth between them. He turned to the others and saw that they were all staring at him in confusion and at least a small amount of revulsion. It probably had something to do with the fact that, as far as they could tell, he'd just started growling and snarling. That must be it. "We're all on the same team," he explained in Basic. "We're all citizens of the Empire. Every one of us has a right to contribute and do what we can to make the Empire a better place, right?" There was no immediate answer so Luke shrugged and looked back to Crask, giving them a smile. "I'll watch your back," he promised in Dosh. The reptoid showed a fearsome-looking mouthful of teeth that Luke knew to be a smile.

All in all, Luke Starkiller's first month in the Imperial Academy wasn't so bad. He'd made a few friends and more than a few enemies. Things could be worse.

They were about to get worse.