Chapter 12
Agent Windsor
"If we're back together, things must have gotten worse."
Even wearing his helmet, Windsor knows the Grand Commander is analyzing the situation. Training and experience insists she trickle out info, keeping some in reserve, in case she needs an edge. Instead, she provides it all, "The admiral shut down Shilling's attempt to exile or imprison you again, but most of the officers remain opposed to you."
She knows the commander too well; at least, she knows his nature. He's too vigilant, too knowledgeable of imperial protocols. He'd know if I held out and hold it against me. Rightfully.
"At least the admiral is awake," the commander remarks. Windsor reflects, you're too generous. They caged you…or are you remaining professional for the audience?
"I forgot to mention it, sir," the spacetrooper commander adds.
"Why aren't you two there?"
"We're not needed, per Captain Shilling. Captain Keel represents all infantry."
"Hmm," Windsor recognizes his displeasure. "Report. What's the situation here?"
The stormtrooper commander snaps to attention, "Per your orders, sir, we captured the captain and his guard. Thanks to Gary, we didn't lose a single trooper."
"Sir," the deck officer calls from a nearby interceptor. "He squared away my hanger too. He chased off a pack of tourists. I couldn't order them out, sir, because of their rank."
"He freed my trooper from his assault armor too," the spacetrooper adds. Agent Windsor glances at the stormtrooper with two black pauldrons, impressed. She appreciates Gary, despite his irrelevance. She doesn't respect him, per se, but they've been through a lot together.
"You have one hell of an aide."
"A what?" Agent Windsor hisses, caught off guard.
"My what?" The Grand Commander asks. Windsor can hear the amusement in his tone.
Gary squirms as the whole docking bay reexamines him. One of the former slaves takes a long drink, her bright red mane of curls dancing. The woman laughs, a full-bellied chuckle unseemly in a lady. The woman wraps an arm around Gary's shoulders and offers him a drink.
Gary has the good sense to decline and escape her grasp. He declares, "I never said that!"
"Sorry, sir," a TIE pilot calls from his fighter, still working on a wing. "After everything on Endor, I thought he was your aide."
"Obviously," the Grand Commander announces as if it was so. Windsor resists the urge to scowl, presenting a neutral face. Curse the commander's unpredictable whims! Gary cowers before that silent stare, that tone as if the commander's amusement was a threat. "My aide is wiser than some of his actions suggest. Keep this up and I'll have to promote you, Gary"
"I…," he shakes his head. "I just want to return to my family, sir."
"Gentlemen," Windsor reminds them sharply. "We're still in danger and you need to report to the bridge, immediately. There are too many…uninformed voices."
"Very well," the Grand Commander points at the TIE pilot. "If your fighter is functional, I need you and whatever pilots you can gather to create a security parameter."
"We have fuel shortages, sir," the pilot says. "Captain Shilling canceled all flights."
"Fortunately, we've captured several fighters and a cruiser. Do you have enough fuel for the next few hours? Moira, same question, and are you willing to work with us a little longer?"
"Yeah," she says slowly, considering him. "You're stuck with me until you give me my shuttle. Fortunately, for you, my Y-TIE has a longer running time than TIEs."
"Pilot," he decides. "You're in charge, but listen to Moira, she has more experience in this region. Moira, grab a flight suit from the armory, and don't steal anything you don't need."
"Hell yeah!" Moira shoves the bottle into Gary's hands before running into the armory.
The TIE pilot seems caught between uncertainty, disbelief, and humor. "Very well, sir."
"Commanders," he points at the spacetrooper and stormtrooper. "What's your status?"
The spacetrooper and the stormtrooper share a look. The spacetrooper begins, "My suit and my comrade's are down. The pirates were excellent; most of my troopers are on patrol."
"Swanson, dismount and grab your dungeoneer armor. Commander, take the assault armor, mine is stranded in the battlecruiser's hanger. Recall your troops and move them to the battlecruiser. There isn't any more assault armor, have your subordinate grab two pauldrons."
Swanson's assault armor pops open so he can exit, and the medium-sized man in a black uniform quickly exits. The commander mounts the armor and reactivates it while Swanson jogs into the armory. He immediately exits, "Blast woman! There are changing rooms right there!"
Moira's laughter echoes, further aggravating Windsor.
The second spacetrooper asks, "Isn't two pauldrons against regulations, sir?"
"We'll worry about regulations after we're safe, for now, the extra protection could be the difference between life and death." The Grand Commander replies. "Stormtrooper, report."
"I was wounded," the stormtrooper commander begins, then looks at the matching injury the Grand Commander seems unhindered by. "I'm fine. Besides my wounded, my unit is ready."
"Listen up! Everyone with mechanical, technical, or repair skills," the commander motions. "Detach and form a new unit. Deck officer! Gauge their skills and put them to work."
A mere handful of troopers separate but the overworked tech's eyes widen. Wiping his hands with a rag, the deck officer nods quickly. "Uhh, yes, sir."
Windsor notes the lack of interest and decides to circle back later. Most troopers can't give a droid an oil bath, let alone repair circuitry. Still, orders are orders. Fortunately, the Grand Commander misses little. "I know they're not expert technicians; but, you need support."
"I'll-I'll make do, sir," the deck officer replies.
"I want to hunt," the large segmented creature points back to the battlecruiser.
"I was going to feed and…cloth you, those of you that wear clothes," the commander looks at the slaves. Windsor evaluates each, ignoring Moira. She classifies the brute as a primitive hunter. The furry alien is terrified but controls it. The Twi-lek flinches from the commander's look, fragile and young, maybe a teenager. The grey manradiates hate.
"No, clOUthes, I hUNt," the creature points again. "I eat Tha-LASS-ians."
Concerned looks pass through the hanger, disquieted by the alien's words.
"Laou can eat about anything," Moira announces as she exits the armory. Wearing a black flight suit, she looks much more comfortable, her bright red hair tied in a bun. Her helmet swings side to side, barely hanging on by the dual hoses. Her arm full of grenades horrifies Windsor.
"Don't eat people, Laou," The Grand Commander orders before thundering. "Blast Moira! You're flying a starfighter! What do you need that many grenades for?"
"I like to keep my options open!" She insists petulantly. "Come on! I'm helping!"
"I want grenades," the TIE pilot says playfully. When the commander glares, he holds up his hands. "You said she has more experience, sir. Obviously, we need grenades."
Windsor irritably reminds them, "This is no time for joking!"
"I too, like grenades," the stormtrooper commander mentions.
"I would not refuse more grenades," a spacetrooper says as he passes by.
"No. No. No," the grand commander points at the troopers and the TIE pilot. Then turns to Moira, "Take two, return the rest. Stop screwing around and launch or I'll feed you to Laou."
"mmmMMM," the alien hums excitedly.
"Aye, aye, commander!" She laughs as she pockets a pair of grenades.
"Troopers, integrate your forces, and form teams of ten for patrols. Yes, it's against procedure. Do it. We can't afford to lose anyone. Veterans take the lead and watch each other's backs. Get the wounded evacuated, spacetroopers to the front wherever the fight is hottest."
"Yes, sir," the stormtrooper commander grumbles. He motions sharply and his troops begin marching down the hallway to the battlecruiser.
"I want to hunt with Laou," the Draugr growls. "The Thalassians need to die."
"Shouldn't you visit medical," the commander asks.
"After you," he points at the commander's wounds. "I don't like doctors."
The commander considers him, but the stormtrooper commander interrupts, "Sir, you can't. They're…they're not trained and they're bloody aliens!"
"Laou, I….I'm not even sure what you are-"
"He's an Amani, commander," a silver protocol droid interjects. "He's from Maridun, a nearby star system. His species are hunter-gatherers, that operate as mercenaries throughout the region. The Amani can endure injuries that would kill most beings instantly, and regenerate within hours or days. They share their world with the small, blue Lurmen, such as Wa Kee."
"Well," the Grand Commander looks at the droid. "That was…informative. Lieutenant, take Laou and form a unit of hunters. Let Laou lead."
"Yes, sir," the spacetrooper replies professionally.
"What about me?" The Draugr demands.
"Commander," the stormtrooper stiffens when he's ordered. "Take the Draugr and keep him close. If any Thalassians resist, let them see him, and threaten to unleash him."
"Sir," the stormtrooper shakes his head. "I won't put my troops at risk for some civilian."
"I'm better on my own," the Draugr insists.
She watches the Grand Commander simmer, growing irate with their insubordination.
"Listen up! Everyone STOP and give me your attention." Windsor watches the troops marching out, the technicians, and even the pilots freeze and comply instantly. "I know you're tired and hurt; this isn't the ending we were promised. We were told, if we followed orders and protocols, the Empire was invincible! We are the Empire's finest…and WE LOST! Here comes another painful truth: it's going to get WORSE!"
She cringes, appalled by his admission. Windsor watches as a collective sigh passes through the hanger, eyes drop, and their spirits collapse. She knows that only momentum kept them moving forward. It's easy to lose yourself in a task. Now, he's forcing them to stop and face the ruinous state of the Empire. Although not a pious woman, Windsor prays he has a plan.
"After the Battle of Endor, I fled rebels and Ewoks for days. Eventually, I reached a clearing. I looked up and saw the Death Star burning. Until that point, I was too busy surviving, to realize WE LOST. I collapsed into a hole, and I wanted to die."
Windsor stares, she'd never heard this story. She never investigated what happened before he arrived at the compound, and that lapse irritates her. Blinking, she forces herself to examine the gathering. Everyone is silent, shocked, and captivated as she is.
Suddenly, Iona reaches up and places a hand on his shoulder. The Grand Commander looks at her and they share a look for a moment. Then he continues.
"The rebellion promised freedom. Democracy. Freedom for who? What democracy, they're full of criminals, terrorists, and anarchists! What do you think is happening, now we're out of the way? Third-rate pirates like the Thalassians ambushed our star destroyer, on the Hydian Way, one of five hyperroutes in the galaxy. Do you believe this was bad luck, a tragic misfortune? Or do you share my view, that chaos rules the galaxy now?"
"We will kill you," the pirate captain interrupts, snarling at the commander. He forces his knees beneath him and sits up before spitting on the deck. "It's our time!"
The Commander kicks him, hard. The pirate gags, coughing harshly, and collapses.
"I'll get to you," the commander snarls. Then he looks at the gathered forces. "We are the only ones that can save us. No reinforcements or resupply are coming. I won't embarrass you by asking or begging; I challenge you! We must embody the order we wish to create. The galaxy is rife with violence and cries out for stability. Our ship is crippled, our forces depleted, and even our fellow imperials oppose us. We need anyone willing to fight. Today, it's Laou, Moira, and the Draugr. Prove we're the Empire's finest, prove we're worthy of the risks they're taking with us!"
Unconsciously, Windsor nods in agreement and realizes she's not alone. A year of captivity hadn't dulled the Grand Commander's ability to share his vision.
"For the Empire!" She cheers, attracting a few others to echo her but many are silent.
"For the Empire!" The commander roars, unimpressed with their volume.
This time, his troops bellow, "FOR THE EMPIRE!"
Rallied, the imperials return to work. He points, "Swanson, join Laou and the hunters. Gary take the last two to the commissary for what they need, and some rations."
The dungeoneer jogs to catch up; his heavy armor is smaller than assault armor but no less imposing. Gary moves towards the aliens, who flinch, but he calmly raises his hands. Then he speaks softly to them. Soon, the TIE fighter and the Y-TIE rise and fly out of the bay.
Windsor marvels at how the Grand commander reorganized and inspires his forces.
The commander asks her, "Are you coming with me to the meeting?"
"No, my presence with derail it. They'll waste hours determining whether or not I had the authority to release you."
"But," Iona whispers innocently, looking at both of them. "You were right."
"That won't matter. I'll join the pilots creating a parameter."
"She's right," the commander agrees. "But command will order your return. Report to medical, even they won't order you to stop saving lives."
"Affirmative," Windsor marks his expertise in imperial etiquette.
"I'm a doctor too," Wa Kee chirps. The tiny blue-furred alien steps forward hesitantly then flinches when they turn their full attention on him. The Twi'Lek cringes, echoing his fear, despite not receiving their attention. "I-I graduated in the top three on Hosni Prime. I-I'll help."
The stare continues, causing him to squirm, before Agent Windsor glances at the Grand Commander. His gaze is unwavering. Then he inquires, "What is Moira's problem with you?"
"She's a pirate!" He whines. "She's crazy!"
"I can confirm that," Gary chortles.
Iona smiles and Windsor closes her eyes in annoyance before refocusing on the alien.
The Grand Commander takes a threatening step forward, ending their mirth, and chilling the conversation. Wa Kee squeals, then confesses, "After Suruuk betrayed us, he made us an offer. Join his crew or get sold to the Thalassians. I know their reputation. I had no choice."
"You ended up their slave all the same," the commander points out. The pirate captain laughs. To her surprise, the commander orders Windsor, "Test him."
Windsor demands, "What's spectacilin used for?"
"Uhh, uh," he stutters for a second before declaring triumphantly. "A broad-spectrum RNA polymerase inhibitor capable of eliminating Drongaran sicknesses and minor infections."
Following the commander's lead, she gives nothing away, instead meeting his expectant gaze without response. The Lurmen's confidence melts and Windsor says, "I'll take him with me, and keep an eye on him. If he's lying or fails; well, he won't have to worry about Moira."
"Activate the interrogator droids too-"
"Like Endor, blast I'm a fool," Windsor curses. "I should have remembered."
The commander nods, "I know it's a lot, but once you're finished there, I need you datamining the battlecruiser's computers. We need any intel we can gather."
"Agreed, I'll preview and inform you of anything relevant, once I'm relieved."
"Excuse me, sir," the protocol droid steps into their circle. "If I may suggest, we should completely scan the captain's treasury ship and the battlecruiser."
"Wait, treasury?" The commander looks surprised. "Moira was right?"
"Yes, sir," Gary nods quickly. "There's quite a lot in there. I put stormtroopers on it…"
The commander nods, "I'll have some of Swanson's men posted. Good idea…?"
"CQB-6, sir," the droid answers. "If I can be of any help, please let me know."
"Go with Gary, escort the Twi'Lek to the commissary for what she needs. I believe she knows galactic basic, but you may not frighten her the way we do."
"Yes, sir!" He turns to her and speaks swiftly in swift and light tones of Ryl. Before they go, the droid asks. "Sir, won't you need me for the pirate?"
"No, I won't," he looks at the captain and demands. "Order your men to surrender."
"Never!"
The commander seizes the captain with one hand, dragging him across the deck towards the hangar's open bay door. Agent Windsor is shocked by the physical power he displays. The captain panics, wiggling, and screaming hoarsely. He clings to the commander's bracer. Extending his arm, the Grand Commander tilts the pirate over the gaping door. The captain's eyes widen in horror, glancing into the vast emptiness of space between the two ships.
"You can't! I'm your prisoner!" He pleads before screaming. "I surrender!"
