IE XV: THE PERFECT SOLDIER
Chained up to the steel towel rail in the bathroom, the Rebel spits out blood on the cold, ceramic tiles, breathing—just barely through the pain. Eva and Daxan tied him to the bike and made him a part of the frame as they raced from the desolate fields to the privacy and safety of the motel. The slightly damp environment is heavy and stale.
The air is like a weight on her lungs as Eva bows over him with narrowing eyes, looking at the vermin at the floor. His charred hand—the one Eva blasted off, is twisted in every painful turn. Since the Library at Gaalperlake gave no answers, Eva's only chance of gaining information lies with this driver, and she is desperately in need of whatever his mind holds. How resilient he may be, Eva is willing to break him no matter what. Her hands itch, growing sweaty.
"One last chance," Eva snarls.
The Rebel scoffs with blood spitting out of his mouth. "Go to hell, kid."
Eva cocks her blaster and pounds with the butt into his face. His cheekbones crack with danger, his face jerking to the side as he lets out a shivering groan.
"One. Last. Chance," Eva cries. "Tell me about your Rebel group and the damn Twi'lek."
In the back of the bathroom stands Daxan, his arms crossed over each other as he watches Eva closely. He holds his thoughts for himself to remain silent, knowing he is on Eva's domain.
The Rebel stares at her with the eyes of a resistant animal, unwilling to cooperate. "I'll die before I betray the cause."
Eva scoffs in his face and gets up with clenched fists. She tilts her head with desire growing. Her grip tightens around the blaster in her hands as her knuckles become pale. "I beg to differ, sir. Everyone's made to be broken. We shall see how much you can endure."
The Rebel scoffs, spitting on the floor, but he remains quiet. Her blood boils until her thoughts blur into one overwhelming, uniform desire: to break the man before her.
With a shout, Eva slams the butt of her blaster into his chest. The Rebel groans, his body jolting with a reverberating shock, but still refusing to give her the scream of agony she desires to hear, echoing in her ears. Her hits grow faster, more frantic. Each impact in his ribs sends ripples up her arms. She can barely take it, but it isn't enough. Eva wants to hear him break. She barrages the Rebel with each pound more powerful than the last. His body shudders with each crash into his ribs as she longs for an agonising scream more and more. Her fury burns in flames as the blaster slips from her fingers, clattering on the floor. Eva barely notices the drop as her fists take over and pound into his chest with raw, unrelenting force. A sickening crack erupts from his chest cavity, louder than the sound of her fist. A heartbeat later, the Rebel cries out a scream of agony.
For a fleeting second, satisfaction rushes through her veins. Eva forces a smile away but almost breaks into a chuckle at his show of weakness.
"How's that feeling?" she asks, almost smirking at her own, mocking voice. Her sinister half-smile vanishes from her face. "Almost 200 bones. Ready to talk now?"
The Rebel blows away a strand of hair from his face, the sweat beading on his forehead. "You really think you're the first Imperial to try this on me?" He breaks into a chuckle. "You're too naive."
Eva takes a deep breath as she tries to keep her fury tamed. Steady. Keep it steady, Eva.
"Nah. I've been through worse," the Rebel snarls, gasping.
Eva crosses her arms. "We've got a bathtub here. I can drown your cries out in steaming hot water until your skin melts away." She clenches her jaws. "You have almost 200 bones. I can break each. Tell me!"
The Rebel shakes his head, but before he can even respond with a taunt, Eva grabs her blaster and smacks it into his charred hand, drawing a sharp scream from him.
"Talk!" Eva cries.
His gasps echo through the small room as the tears streak down his face. "Alright, alright!" he gasps, his voice wheezing. "I'll talk. But promise me not to kill me."
Eva smirks. At last, she has broken him and gives him a nod. "Promised."
Anything to get an answer out of him, even if her superiors would want her to kill him.
Eva stands back, opening the atmosphere for space as the Rebel swallows hard. The ventilation inlet of the bathroom hums faintly through the man's ragged breaths, filled with pain. "The Twi'lek… we found her in the woods. She joined us afterwards."
"She joined your group?" Eva tilts her head. "What's its name?"
"The Starbird Group," he stammers.
Eva crosses her arms. "The Starbird Group," she recites, memorising the name. "Does it have a base of operations here?"
The Rebel shrugs shiveringly as a streak of blood runs down his chin. Droplets splash on the white floor tiles. "We have a safe house in the east of the city. But we won't stay there long. Our commander is planning a hit on an Imperial transfer in four days. It's supposed to be our last score before we move to a new location."
Eva listens carefully, memorising everything, but she is not satisfied yet. "Where is it?" she growls.
"I-, I don't kriffin' know!" he cries. "I'm just the driver. They don't tell me everything."
Behind his words, Eva senses fear. He is trying to press it away, but it is enough for Eva. He is not telling everything. He may not be lying, but he is also not telling it all.
Eva steps towards him and bows over him with narrowed eyes. "You know more than you're letting on."
The Rebel shakes his head with a shuddering breath. "No. No, I don't. That's all I know."
"Liar!" Eva pounds her blaster into his throat, strangling him as his unchained legs flounder like fish on the dry floor. His breath stalls, gasping for air but all he can let out are the squeezes of a hurt animal, fighting for survival.
"Wait, wait." At last, the Rebel squeezes out some, almost inaudible words.
Eva loosens her force on his throat, letting him speak.
"Between the Capital and Zythelle, there's a hide-out," he stammers. "It's where we stash supplies. It's off-road, but there's a landmark—the old hovertrain bridge over the river. We've been using it for months. That's all I know, I swear!"
Eva holds her blaster tightly against his throat, considering pushing further, but she recognises she's gone far enough. She scans his eyes and finds no hint of deceit shimmering in the corners of his dark pupils. Slowly, Eva drops the force from his throat and lowers her blaster. "You better pray that you're telling the truth."
The Rebel gasps with relief. His body slumps as the immediate danger seems to pass him.
Slowly, Eva backs away to Daxan, still standing back with his arms crossed.
"Well, that worked," Daxan remarks, raising an eyebrow.
"Of course it did," Eva whispers, her voice still strained by the adrenaline, and glances at the Rebel shortly. "Just go far enough." She takes one big gasp and looks back at Daxan. "Anyway, there's a hide-out somewhere, we should investigate it."
Daxan nods. His eyes seem to catch something on her face and suddenly, he reaches out to her and strokes her cheek.
Eva instantly pushes back his hand. Her eyes instantly sharpen like blades.
"You got blood on your face," says Daxan, retracting his hand.
That's why he was stroking her.
Eva touches her cheek with her finger and notices a red spot of blood on her tip. She swipes the rest of the blood away from her cheeks and forms red, vague brushes on her palms.
"It's not mine," Eva assures. "But we have a lead. Let's check it out."
Daxan nods. "And what about him?" he asks, pointing at the prisoner.
Eva glances back at the Rebel. The sweat is drenching his jacket as he has his eyes fixed on the floor. The blood spilling out of his wounds create red stains in the ceramic floor.
Eva inhales sharply through her nose. "I respect promises," she responds, glancing shortly at Daxan, and brushes past his shoulder, storming out of the bathroom.
Eva pounds the door of her room open and steps outside, onto the parking lot of the motel. Adrenaline rushes through her veins, leaving her gasping for cold air. Her nerves are burning with turmoil as she wipes the last streaks of blood from her cheeks. Through the sharp, whistling wind, her mind races with the Rebel's words echoing in her ears. This new hide-out, their next hit on a transfer, the Starbird Group—it is all she can think about.
The door behind her squeaks shut as Daxan stands behind her, silently.
"So, we got the information we need," he says, finally, calm and careful. "But… are you okay? You're shaking."
"I'm fine," Eva whispers. She stares away at the towering buildings around her, reaching for the starfield beyond the clouds. Unease electrifies her nerves, feeling like she can barely hold in everything.
Daxan steps closer. "Are you?" he presses, softer now. "Are you fine? You don't always have to be."
Eva buries her face in her hands, not sure she wants to acknowledge his pushing presence. Shut up. Are you kriffin' doubting me?
In a fleeting second, she wants to brush him off and ditch him together with the Rebel, and dive into the mission as always, head first. He might make great friends with that broken man there. But suddenly, almost all the words slip out of her mind.
"I can't sleep," Eva whispers, slipping. Her fists clench, her nails digging into her palms.
Daxan remains silent. "You can't sleep?"
"I can't," Eva whispers, her eyes watering. "I. Can't. Sleep. I can't stop them."
"What can you not stop?"
Then, she blows up. "The nightmares!" Eva cries, gasping, turning to Daxan. "Flashes. Fire. I keep getting them. It's keeping me awake all night."
Then, a cold gust of wind punches her out of the fire. Eva straightens up, wipes away the tears forming in her eyes, and steadies her lungs with cold gasps of air. She slowly shakes her head. "There's a hide-out somewhere towards Zythelle," her voice calm and steady, hiding the straining tension. "We have to check it out."
Daxan steps towards her and puts his cold hand against her cheek, a block of ice on her burning nerves. "Eva, slow down for a moment. You're shaking. You're running and falling quicker than you can catch yourself. You're on knife's edge."
Eva hesitates as she stares at him with uncertainty. His words sink in, but before they land, Eva's eyes turn fierce and pushes Daxan's hand away from her cheek. "Let's get going. Time is not on Imperial side."
Eva swallows and wipes away the last tears, releasing Daxan's hand viciously.
Daxan nods almost reluctantly with hesitation. He presses his lips and remains silent for a second or two, seemingly pondering, until he nods again and gestures to the speeder bike.
Eva hops onto the back. She runs her fingers through her hair, but her hands tremble and the blond strands slip through. She curses, fumbling with the strands as she twists them around quickly into a weak bun. Some strands fall out, sweeping into her face as she draws them away with her hands. Eva meets the eyes of Daxan, his lingering gaze filled with concern and doubt. What is he thinking?
Growing impatient, Eva taps with her hand on the driver's seat in front of her. "Come on, let's go!"
Daxan breaks his stare, hops on, and speeds off the parking lot and onto the busy roads of the Capital. Eva glances at the lit windows of nightshops flashing past her. The people walking at the sidewalk turn into vague hazes as Eva tries to lose her thoughts lingering to Daxan. The doubt in his staring eyes, the concern in his soft but strained voice… Eva cannot understand why he has turned doubtful and uncertain about her capabilities so suddenly.
What fuels his doubt? What does he see in her that she can't see? Eva can only reach out to the dark, unknown of what Daxan is exactly thinking about her. Whatever it is, it remains as a sour afterthought in her mind…
The bright screen of his computer burns in his face as Kirbley sits at his desk, looking at the numbers displayed. The Army training has been going on for little over a week and results are slowly growing better as they pour in. Cadets make more calculated movements, more shots hit than miss, and maneuvers go quicker with each day. They are nowhere near the speed and coordination of Army troopers making these movements every day and night, but his cadets are in the right direction.
Kirbley leans back. His desolate, bleak office is filled with silence. Only the ventilation inlet and the fluorescent lights overhead hum a little. Through the silence, however, his inner satisfaction is deafening. A small smile forms on his face. The numbers aren't lying. His cadets are truly becoming more skilled each day. When they entered the Academy program in their first days, these children could not even hit a single, fixed target. None could march. None could hit. They made baby steps. But now, within a year, these children were well on their way of becoming the Empire's best soldiers. The progression makes him almost chuckle. The Night Force project is showing its results. It's promising.
However, his relief is slightly suppressed by the threats General Veers made. Though the project is showing results, it lacks speed. The war is going at a quicker pace than the project. Imperial High Command wants the soldiers quicker and sooner than what the project is designed for. If he doesn't take the extra step, IDMR might take it instead. A hint of nervousness electrifies his nerves. Night Force is indeed lacking the quick development speed High Command expects, but he knows that it is not easy to achieve that. Science is rather stubborn. It decides its own speed. Once men decide, science will take the blade to hit back. Caution is required.
Kirbley's eyes grow weary and he lets out a yawn. It is late, but he decides to keep working for an hour. If there's a way to cautiously speed up Night Force and push his cadets into the next phases earlier, he might find it now.
At the Caf machine in the building's canteen, he leans heavily against the counter, waiting for his cup to fill with fuming-hot fuel. As the machine simmers like a broken repulsorlift engine, Kirbley's thoughts drift away to IDMR's research report he read earlier. Its conclusion echoes through his mind crystal clear: through intensive conditioning, soldiers can become immune to emotions. Pressure, fear, anxiety, sorrow, hesitation; none will exist. It might be a solution for the project; cadets might take all the pressure if he speeds up the project.
However, it is a plan that is morally questionable. Teenagers need emotions to weigh risks and rewards, build social connections, find out who they really, really, are; not just Imperial soldiers. Should soldiers be stripped from their human aspects? Should children lose their emotions? He isn't certain. Not to forget, it is crisis. It often requires the extra step, a risky sacrifice to lose one but save all.
Kirbley isn't sure whether he can take that extra step himself. But if he won't do it, IDMR almost certainly will…
An officer appears in the corner of his eye, his footsteps echoing faintly through the desolate room. "Sir."
Kirbley turns around.
"We've received a message from the Imperial Center," and the officer hands him a datacard. "It is for you, sir."
A message from the Imperial Center? That can only go two ways; good or bad. No in between.
As his hands grow slightly sweaty, Kirbley plugs the datacard into his device. A message pops up on his screen. Data retrieved, and he opens the file. His eyes draw to the first words as he starts reading.
Office of General Maximilian Veers
ISB Clearance Level: CLASSIFIED
Subject: Scheduled Evaluation of Night Force Project
Doctor Kirbley Forest.
In accordance with High Command's wishes, the Office of General Maximilian Veers has scheduled an evaluation by the second rotation of receival to assess the progression and effectiveness of the training regimen for its cadets. He wishes to witness the cadets in action himself. This review is critical to determining the project's alignment with military benchmarks and its readiness for active deployment.
It is expected from the Night Force project to reach the benchmarks High Command has set. Failure to comply will result in the termination of your contract with the Imperial military. Hence, General Veers shall be accompanied by Colonel Lubhaumer of the Imperial Department of Military Research.
Should the project be deemed insufficient in its progress, you shall be immediately replaced by Colonel Lubhaumer without hesitation.
Yours sincerely, the Office of General Maximilian Veers.
His heart sinks in his chest. He almost drops his datapad on the floor. General Veers is coming? Dank Ferrik.
And what is even worse is that General Veers will not be alone; some colonel of IDMR is coming along with him. His department is jumping to take over the Night Force project if results are insufficient. This colonel will be coming to test out the couch in the officer's lounge, feel the smooth counters, and spin around in his office chair, just to get himself familiar with his future project. The candidate to replace him will be coming along, and it feels like a dagger striking deep into his spine. Kirbley's pupils grow with anxiety, his nerves starting to burn, but from deep within, a hint of anger combusts in his chest.
If IDMR ever steals this project from him, no cadet will be safe from its rigorous, dangerous research methods. They are ruthless in reaching their goals, and he has no doubt that every cadet under their command will suffer a lot. Kirbley's mind jumps to the research report of conditioning a soldier's mind until the complete erasure of emotions. That research was conducted by IDMR themself and tested on real soldiers. People, serving for the Imperial Army, were the testing bunnies they saw as their research property. They were stripped from what made them sentient beings, all for the sake of military development.
IDMR is not just some military research department. They stare the devil right in the eyes fearlessly. Colonel Lubhaumer, the candidate to replace him, is the servant of said devil-starers.
"You've got to be kidding me," and he storms away, leaving his cup of Caf on the counter.
Now that Veers and some shitass is coming, Kirbley will have to show them the best of Night Force. He has to convince them that the project is performing excellently under his command. He doesn't need IDMR. And who's that colonel anyway?
Kirbley glances over his shoulder as he walks back to his office. The officer is still following him, awaiting further orders. "Who the hell is this shitass, Colonel Lubhaumer? What's his resume?"
The officer glances at his datapad. "Colonel Lubhaumer… so far, he's played critical roles in the creation of early Stormtrooper training, evaluation metrics, and Project Seraph Null."
Kirbley almost stops in his tracks. It rings no bell at all, but the name of it alone sends a chill down his spine."Seraph Null?"
"Yes sir," the officer responds. "Most documents are classified, unfortunately, but all that is known is that it seems to have researched emotional suppression. It was tested on recruits to create unflinching soldiers, but it seems to have been canceled because it… went too far."
Kirbley scoffs. "Went too far? What do you mean?"
For IDMR, nothing goes too far. They would bomb twelve men with a proton warhead just to prove they'd burn as well as sheep would.
The officer shrugs as his eyes are glued to his screen. "The test subjects were found dangerously unstable and aggressive after mental conditioning. It… it was bad, sir. They acted without regard for orders, engaged in massacres without reason, and… there were instances of deliberate friendly-fire, like they snapped completely."
Kirbley's heart stops. That project derailed, and not just by a little. It shot off the rails hard. If soldiers were brainwashed to such a point that they turned onto their own men in total madness, what will Night Force become? It becomes clear to him what kind of a man Lubhaumer seems to be; a colonel willing to do anything for science, but most importantly of all, for the Imperial military. These test subjects were sacrificed and had their brains twisted into pure mush until they could not make any distinction between friend and foe.
Kirbley stops in his tracks. With a faltering heart, his eyes drift down to the floor with concern consuming everything within him like a wildfire. If Lubhaumer is a candidate for replacing him, the boys and girls Kirbley has serving for the project won't survive even a day under his command. All these children will turn into zombies with schizophrenia within weeks, because why would IDMR care? All they care about is the finishline-the gate to victory, while the path to reach it, is built upon thousands of human carcasses burning in puddles of red mud. Whether their test subjects suffer or not deserves no thought.
With a deep sigh, he glances over his shoulder at the officer waiting with his arms behind his back. "A mad scientist, huh?"
The officer presses his lips and nods, slowly. "I suppose so."
Kirbley nods with fear running through his nerves, his pulse pounding. The shadow of IDMR looms large, threatening to crush everything he's worked for. And now that High Command has appointed a man holding no regard for ethics to possibly replace him, means that perhaps, they have no confidence that Kirbley is able to reach their benchmarks.
Then, his fists clench. A spark of defiance ignites in his chest. If he wants to stand up for his cadets that are trying so hard to become the best of the Empire, he will have to show High Command what he can. Show them that he can lead a military project. This shitass of a colonel can suck it.
Through the thick, concrete walls, inaudible murmurs ripple through her serene meditation. Kishtung has her eyes shut and her hands on her knees, breathing in and out, thoughtful. The lone fluorescent light overhead buzzes through the disjointed melody of the Force. She tries to connect to it, trying to understand its unbalanced song.
Then, the door behind her hisses, sliding into the wall with the murmuring ceasing. A wave of cold air rushes into the room. Footsteps grow louder until they stop behind her. The voice of it remains silent, but its aura, however, tickles Kishtung's nerves. It's the commander of the Starbird Group.
Exhaling sharply through her nose, Kishtung tilts her head up a little, her eyes still shut. "Did you get it?"
A cold sigh erupts from behind her as commander Girkin's shrill voice echoes off the walls. "No, we did not. Our agents could not retrieve what you are seeking. The target fled to the highway and into the farmlands. We've lost eyes."
Suddenly, a spark explodes in Kishtung's chest. The fluorescent light above her flickers as for a brief moment, the dark shadows of the outside world rush in, flooding every breath of light with darkness. Her jaws clench as she opens her eyes, a small but powerful flame burning within her.
"You lost it?" Kishtung growls. Slowly she opens her eyes with clenched fists. An impatient sigh erupts as she slowly stands up. She closes her eyes briefly, trying to stop the storm raging within her, but the words spill out before she can stop them. "Time is our worst enemy right now, and you've lost it?"
She turns around, pushing her robes away from her legs with her arms. She glances with cold eyes at Girkin. "I cannot afford to waste time."
Girkin presses his lips as the annoyance grows in his pupils. "Look, kid. These are no longer the days of the Republic where you apparently still live. These are the Empire days. The more our agents stay in the open, the more I risk of losing them. I cannot waste time, but my men are equally important."
Kishtung shakes her head as the frustration grows within her. "You were not dealing with a Sith. You were dealing with a child."
Girkin scoffs. "It makes you wonder what kind of kriffed up shit they did to that child."
"Well, I'm losing time," Kishtung snaps. "The longer the Artefact stays in enemy hands, the bigger the odds will be it will land in two truly evil hands." With pounding footsteps, she approaches him. The light in the ceiling flickers. "Whatever the Artefact holds, the Empire may use it for their own, evil cause."
Girkin's gaze becomes glassy. "What's this Artefact anyway? What's so special about it?"
Kishtung's eyes drift away, locking to the crevices that have formed deep in the concrete wall. Water droplets leaking out of pipes seep out. As her eyes lock onto the crevices, the wall suddenly cracks, tearing apart as the light above her goes dead. The memories rush back for a moment, gripping her with fear.
"Me and my master were sent out to retrieve an artefact researchers had found at an old Sith temple," Kishtung stammers. "But Trandoshan pirates ransacked the research station and fled with it."
She remembers holding the Artefact across her chest as Jedi Master Tilman fought the Trandoshan pirates flooding into the corridor of their ship. She stood in the carbonite chamber, unable to move as her master's lightsaber flashed like lightning, fighting the electrostaffs the Trandoshans swung at him.
"Master," she cried. "There are too many!"
Tilman swung his lightsaber into the chest of a pirate as he glanced at her. "Keep fighting, I got you!"
Then, a blasterbolt hit his shoulder. Kishtung gasped with terror as the Trandoshans slithered with fury. However, Tilman stood up, unwilling to accept defeat, and deflected another blasterbolt back to its source. A Trandoshan marksman fell to the floor as his fellow pirates moved closer to the Jedi, their electrostaff hissing with death.
However, Kishtung saw there were simply too many. The Trandoshans flooded the corridor like ants, throwing everything they had to get back the Artefact they had stolen.
"Master, we can't hold," she cried.
For a fraction of a second, Tilman glanced at her as he swung his lightsaber over his back and sliced the throats of three pirates in one swing. There, in his eyes, Kishtung saw the defeat flickering in his pupils. He too realised they couldn't hold indefinitely.
"Kishtung, I know this may be hard for you," he uttered, swinging his saber, "but you must flee. Plan-C."
Plan-C. If the ship was overrun and the escape pods were inaccessible, then there was only one option left to escape: Plan-C.
Kishtung's lungs raced. "And you?"
"I'll cover you," he cried.
Kishtung gasped. That meant something else; He wasn't coming along. Her feet were frozen to the floor as she stared at her master for what may be the last time.
"Get moving," his voice echoed through the slaughtering, "get in the carbon chamber!"
Kishtung stumbled backwards, almost tripping over her feet as she forced herself to move. She ran to the back of the chamber and activated the machine. Lights flickered and the whole carbonite chamber started hissing as if it was tearing itself apart. Steam rushed over the floor as Kishtung stepped into the open coffin where the condensed tibanna gas was going to freeze her.
As the machine was activating, Kishtung's eyes landed on her master, covering her escape with every bit of power he had left. Her heart pounded with hope, hoping he would overmaster them all at the last moment. His lightsaber spun, deflecting a storm of blasterfire into the Trandoshans, but even that did not seem to stop them.
Come on, keep standing, master, she thought. Then, the machine around her started hissing. Cold, condensed tibanna gas spewed into her, covering her with metallic ice. Kishtung froze as her everything became a haze. The flashes before her became vague dots. But then, as clear as crystal, Kishtung saw an electrostaff shooting through her master's chest, sticking out of his back. His agonising scream echoed through her ears and Kishtung let out one, final cry as tears stroke down her cheek, until the carbonite had frozen her in time.
At her master's command, the central computer blew itself up. The corridors were torn apart and the ship was destroyed, except for her and the Artefact…
With watery eyes, Kishtung gazes at the floor. The last memories of her master rush back like lightning. The Trandoshan slithers still echo through her ears as she finally manages to look away.
"I have to complete this mission for my master," she murmurs, her voice breaking apart as she glances at Girkin. "We still don't know what the Artefact holds, but the unknown is dangerous in the wrong hands."
Girkin's expression softens as he presses his lips. Understanding flickers in his eyes. "I understand you want it back at all costs. I understand the risks the Artefact holds as long as this girl has it. But please understand that these days, the price of manpower is staggeringly high. I cannot throw everyone we've got."
Kishtung closes her eyes and inhales deeply through her nose. The frustration within her calms down and she nods, slowly. "I understand."
A short smile forms on Girkin's face. "Thank you."
"However," Kishtung responds, "since time is running out, perhaps it is best to let me retrieve the Artefact on my own. Your men won't risk capture."
Girkin glances down, uncertain of Kishtung's proposal. "Right… Well, we've lost all traces to the Artefact and the girl. How are you going to find her?"
Kishtung knows it might be a problem. She shrugs and turns around, pondering, until a memory races through her mind. Kishtung swallows with discomfort rising in her chest. That girl may be untraceable, but she has a sister. She knows it is a wrong move, but she can be found easily…
The Capital is behind them as they drive over the rural roads through the strolling hills of the farmlands. The dark green vegetation flashes past her as Eva's eyes linger to the clear night sky. The dots in the starfield flicker a little as if they are very much alive, pounding with a heart. As the wind whips her hair, Daxan tilts his head up. "So, let's plan ahead. What do you think we can find there?"
Eva breaks her stare at the stars and moves closer to him to speak. "That Rebel spoke about two bases. We already know the location of one. If we find that one, we may find the other base, which might be their main base of operations, and if we find that one, we will probably find the Padawan. She is target one."
Instead of asking further, Daxan nods. "Okay, I see now why. Got it."
No doubts there. Eva hopes he's realising now that she is leading this, not him. If not, well, ditching always works.
Suddenly, Daxan yanks his speeder to the left into another road, driving away from where they're supposed to go. Confused, Eva leans towards Daxan while holding tightly onto the bike.
"Hey, you went the wrong way," Eva murmurs.
Daxan tilts his head up. "No worries. I'm just taking a detour."
Detour? You're kidding me? We have no time to waste. That alien's gonna bomb some transfer in four days and you're taking a sightseeing trip?
"A detour? But-, but-, why?" Eva growls. "We can't waste time."
"Just hold on," Daxan urges.
"Daxan!" Eva cries. "That alien's gonna bomb a transfer soon and there are Rebels in that hide-out. We can't waste time like this."
Daxan remains silent and pushes the throttle even further, yanking his bike forward. Eva clings tightly onto his bike, trying to reach him as the frustration grows like wildfire. "Daxan. You hear me? We have to get going. We can't-,"
Suddenly, as they round a bend, the sprawling city of Vaulent Capital with the light of its buildings and rushing speeders appear. The lights of the city twinkle like the stars.
The sight takes her breath away and she loses all words instantly. "-waste… time…"
Daxan stops next to the railing of the viewpoint as Eva's eyes linger to the view. He hops off and extends his hand. "Eva. Take my hand."
Eva breaks her stare and glances at him. "What?"
"Just do it."
What?
Her heart starts to pound with unease. Eva hesitates. What is this going to be? A love letter? She almost recoils by the thought. Daxan is not gonna be the sucker Kuma is, right? Getting in the way just for his own agenda? But as Eva scans his eyes, they seem serious and sharp, not softness or nervousness she would expect him to have. He seems to have something else in mind.
Eva stammers. "Just-, only if we continue after, right?"
"Right," Daxan nods.
Eva still hesitates for a moment, but the intrigue takes over her thoughts. If it isn't his own agenda, what else is he pushing? She may get the answers if she complies. And she feels like the decision won't bounce back at her. She knows she can trust him, even if Daxan seemed doubtful earlier. As long as she gets to continue afterwards, and thus, with her heart slightly pounding, Eva takes his hand slowly. Daxan's skin feels cold and rough as he pulls her from his bike and on her feet. Their footsteps echo as he leads her to the edge of the viewpoint. Her heart fills with awe as Daxan forces her hand onto the frigid railing. Her breath catches in her throat as she stares at the endless lines of roads and streets reaching for the horizon. The skyline of Trustfall Center seems taller from the farmlands like beacons. However, the sight before her escapes her mind as quickly it enters through her eyes. She cannot understand yet why Daxan brought her here. With her eyes lingering to the view, Eva leans towards Daxan standing next to her.
"What are we doing here?" she asks, barely above a whisper.
"Just-, enjoy the view," Daxan responds, just as quietly.
Just watch? Okay.
A flashing blue glow races through one of the major roads, passing the red traffic lights and the yellow fluorescents of street lights. Its siren is barely audible in the soft breeze and the hums of the city. Instead of a concrete jungle, it is an ocean of lights constantly on the move, a city that breathes. The more Eva looks at the cityscape, the more it hypnotises her.
"And?" Daxan asks, softly.
"It's-, it's beautiful," Eva murmurs.
Eva breathes in deeply. Instead of the foul stench of combustion gasses prickling in her nose, it is the fresh scent of leaves surrounding her. The orange-purple colours in the sky cast a serene glow over everything as the blazing sun slowly descends. A sunset has never looked more beautiful on Vaulent 6. The small orb of Vaulent Prime skims the top of the sun as it slowly vanishes below the horizon, forming a silhouette against the dreamy shades.
Eva leans with her elbows on the cold railing. With still the questions left, she glances slowly at Daxan with intrigue. "Why did you bring me here?" she barely whispers. "Honest answer."
He inhales deeply through his nose as the orange glow of the city reflects faintly in his eyes. "I just wanted to put things on different gears, if you don't mind. I've been following you for a day or two, and I can't deny the fact that I'm fairly impressed."
"Impressed?" Eva asks, shaking her head with confusion. Are you trying to hit on me, sleemo?
This seems like the start of the worst scenario she can imagine. Her heart almost sinks in her chest. However, Daxan's eyes remain vigilant. The contradicting signals crash violently into each other in her mind and Eva is left in confusion.
"Your work method is quite efficient," Daxan adds.
Eva glances away for a brief moment, uncertain of how to answer. "I… like to bury myself into the mission, yeah," she stammers. "Taking everything onto me, diving in headfirst. It's my thing."
"Without even taking a break?"
Eva remains quiet. What is his agenda, really? He has something up his sleeve, Eva can feel it. "What are you trying to reach?" she asks at last. "I don't understand."
"Look, appreciate the moment. Appreciate the view," and he pauses, glancing at the skyline. "This mission you are on is so exhausting and straining, I see it in your eyes, your limbs. You were shaking back there."
"It was an intense moment," Eva snaps.
"It was," Daxan nods. "And that's why I've taken you here. You're indulging yourself in the mission and forget to step back a gear and breathe, to live."
"I can't step back," says Eva. "I cannot. I have a duty to fulfill. The Rebels are my enemy, and I won't stop fighting them until they're all dead."
Daxan smirks. "I don't think that is the only reason why you're so obsessive-,"
"I'm not obsessive!" Eva cries, but even to her, her voice sounds uncertain.
Daxan tilts his head a little, pondering. "Perhaps not. But what's going on? What is really going on?"
A sigh escapes from Eva, filled with frustration. "What is going on is that I hate them," she snarls. "My parents are dead because of them."
"Hate? I thought you were joking when you promised that Rebel slug his survival. I didn't think you were going through with it."
"I respect promises."
"You respect morals." Daxan smirks. "Morals. You? An Imperial full of hate?"
Eva clasps her forehead with frustration gnawing her patience away. "I promised him not to be killed. I didn't say he wouldn't die by kriffin' starvation or something. Look. I hate them. That's all."
Daxan drops his head and glances away with disappointment flickering in his eyes. "With that statement, would you rest your hand on the Code of the New Order?"
Eva stops, biting her lip. What she said was a lie. Even if she does not want to admit to telling the truth, she cannot claim it is the truth. The Code of the New Order cannot be disrespected. It is like swearing at Empire Day.
Eva swallows hard and glances away with unease. "No," she whispers, stammering. "I would not."
"Then tell me," Daxan responds.
Eva clenches her fists, shaking her head as the turmoil starts rising in her chest. Her nerves start to scorch her alive as the towering skyline twists into tornadoes, while Daxan's eyes heat up, burning on her skin with urgency.
"Let the concrete down there soak in your confessions, the truth." He puts his hand on her shoulder and shakes her. "Let it out. Why can't you stop? What's the drive?"
"Because I can't sleep!" Eva cries at him. Her heart is racing in her chest. "I can't sleep." She drops to her knees with aching lungs and falls with her back into Daxan's bike. She curls up, squeezing herself in her arms until she almost chokes herself. With almost watery eyes, she glances at Daxan as he looks down at her like a giant. "I have nightmares. Little children have them. I shouldn't have them, yet I do." A tear rolls over her cheek. "I saw my sister. She's only eleven. I saw her on her knees, in the fire, with an ISB firing squad. I'm afraid."
Daxan remains quiet for the breeze to whistle in the night sky. "Afraid of what?" his voice soft.
"Them."
"Rebels?"
"My own kind." Eva swallows hard as Daxan watches. "You're right. I don't hate Rebels. I don't hate them the way I should. I see them with faces, with lives. And I'm afraid of whatever the ISB could do to me if they find out that I'm not the soldier I'm supposed to be."
Her cheeks burn red as her heart aches. Confessing her problems feels like breaking a dam open. It feels wrong, very wrong, to admit she is not the soldier she's supposed to be. "I am expected to kill without mercy, to hate every enemy I come across, grind their faces into the dirt without thinking twice. Violence is not my answer. It's the solution. A cursed solution. I'm bound to what I should be, a perfect soldier with violence as its solution, but-, but I can't. I can't be the perfect soldier."
"Should you be perfect?"
"I have to be," Eva's voice breaks. "Why shouldn't I?"
"Life? Beauty? Serenity?" Daxan snaps. He drops to the ground and shuffles closer to her, staring at her with sharp eyes. "Stone cold, mindless, hateful, is that who you are deep inside? Is that what you in your entirety should be?"
"It's what they want."
"But is it what you want?"
Eva stalls.
"You're breaking while trying so hard to remain the cold blooded, Rebel scum killer. There's more than just the military," Daxan snarls. "Just-, look at the treasure of a view that's before you. You are digging yourself so deep into this mission that you're destroying yourself. You don't enjoy the things of beauty that you come across," and he shoves closer to her. "The pressure is killing yourself and you're allowing it. You can't even get a knot in your hair without struggling."
Eva swallows. She hates to admit it. She despises admitting her wrongdoing, but this mission she has willingly taken on herself is slowly but surely destroying herself. The pressure from higher-up to kill at command without any thought is crushing her. Rebels are not faceless demons, they are people with their own reasons to fight. That may be why she saw Eline kneeling to an ISB firing squad; the fear of seeing an ISB firing squad herself, executing her for Rebel sympathy. She might be a rebel herself, even if she's fighting against it. Everything she has taken on herself is pulling her apart to the point she cannot even tie her hair into a knot the right way, something she used to do flawlessly all the time.
Eva realises she needs moments to breathe when the heat is scorching her. She knows she's been visiting Eline from time to time to cool down from the hectic Academy days, but when she's alone, Eva seems to struggle with it. Once she's back in the military, all that matters is the helmet.
As her eyes linger to the flickering lights of the skyline, Eva struggles to breathe, her lungs aching with pain as her voice turns shallow and small. "I-, I understand. But-, what should I do?" she sobs. "All I know is fighting."
"Start by breathing," Daxan responds, his voice soft. He reaches out to her and wipes the tears from her cheeks, rubbing his warm hands over her skin.
The clog in her throat slowly clears away and Eva lets out a sigh of comfort, feeling the unease and the shame flooding out of her chest.
"Just take a kriffin' break from all the action," he adds, his breath gently blowing into her face.
Eva grasps Daxan's arms firmly with shivering hands.
Daxan pulls his hand from her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I forgot you didn't like-,"
"No," Eva sobs. "Keep going," and she drops her head on his arm and sighs with a broken voice. "I'm exhausted."
Daxan's pupils shimmer with confusion, unsure of her response as if he's talking to a drunk person, but he nods and wipes away Eva's last tears. The soft brushes of his fingertips stroke her cold heart with warming comfort, damaged by the straining mission she has brought upon herself. For a moment, the eyes of her superiors no longer feel like they're there. No longer is there a greater good, a mission or a galaxy to cleanse. There's only this moment, a serene view over a magnificent city.
As her eyes linger to the twinkling lights of the city, she shuffles closer to Daxan, mesmerised by the view, until her thoughts drift away to something. She chokes in her breath. She almost forgot something.
Eva swings her backpack onto her lap and zips it open, drawing in the intrigued eyes of Daxan instantly. Eva rummages through her content as he watches her and pulls out a box of cookies. The pink hair of Lola explodes out of the label with colour.
"What-, where did you get that from?" Daxan asks.
Eva strips it open. "The fuel station."
Daxan smirks. "You took it during the firefight?"
Eva chuckles. "I mean, they're cookies. Can't leave 'em behind."
Daxan chuckles as well and together, they watch the city slowly going asleep while eating the cookies of Lola's Academy, filling her grumbling stomach.
As they keep watching the city, the amount of lights on the roads decrease. The exhaustion starts setting in. The city lights slowly turn into vague orbs amidst brushes of black and grey until she falls asleep with the soft sounds of a sleeping jungle of concrete at her feet.
Daxan, still watching the skyline in awe, swallows hard. "Hey, there's something I want to tell you," he stammers. His heart pounds in his chest with nervousness, but then, his eyes land on Eva, her eyes shut and her head on his shoulder. Her long hair hides most of her face, and Daxan chokes in his words. I shouldn't wake her up. It's been a long day.
Carefully, Daxan puts his hand below Eva's head and repositions her body carefully. He straightens her legs on the ground and gently lays her head on his lap below his jacket. His hand gently brushes a strand of hair away from her face and lets her sleep. With a smile of comfort, he whispers softly. "Sleep well, Eva."
Sleep well…
Deep, deep in the night, something pulls Eline from her sleep—a sound so quietly, it almost feels like an irregular beat of her heart, but enough to stir her wide awake. Eline uncurls from her bed and opens her eyes to the dark dorm at the scouting camp. Listening carefully, Eline hopes to hear it again, wanting to know what it was, but all she can hear is the hums of a nearby vent.
Then, the creak of a floorboard. Her senses sharpen and Eline sits up in her bed. She can hear footsteps. Slow, careful, growing fainter and fainter.
Intrigued, Eline slips out of bed. The coldness of the floor ripples through her bare feet as she curls her arms around herself and moves silently towards the door. She pulls it open slightly, just enough to peek through.
The corridor of the building is dark. Many dorms connect to this hallway, and there, at the end, a window is left open. The breeze blows into the bleak curtains, making it flutter like spirits. She embraces herself tighter as she shivers from the cold air crashing into her.
The Scouts is centered around group effort. Everyone does their part. Did someone forget to ensure the windows are closed? If Eline wouldn't have noticed it, someone could have ransacked the place!
Her heart pounds faintly as Eline steps into the corridor. Her ears fill with constant static as the silence feels deafening. She walks to the end of the hallway, sneaking on her toes to wake nobody up, and closes the window. Its handlebar creaks as the lock makes a light, metallic click. Closed.
A short smile forms on her face, happy to have done her duty. No one gets to ransack this place now.
The twinkling starfield in the lunar sky draws in her eyes and she peeks out of the glass. The sea of little dots flicker and shimmer as if they are all alive. Her breath forms a damp spot of moist on the glass as Eline stares at the night sky with awe.
Then, Eline shudders to a creak. She jolts around with combusting nerves. A shadow lungs at her. Eline jumps back, lets out a scream but a hand clamps over her mouth, silencing her voice. Her heart pounds in her chest like blastershots as Eline tries to free herself, stomping into the figure with her knees and feet until something cold and metallic stabs in her neck and a wave of pain zaps through her skin. Eline lets out a final, silenced cry as her muscles grow numb. Her panicking thoughts die out like extinguished flames as her vision blurs. The dark hallway stretches, twists, turns, spins, until the darkness dances around the edges of her vision and everything goes black…