Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars nor am I associated with those that do. This is a non-profit fan work written for the purpose of entertainment.
The Imperial: Arrowhead Command
Chapter 9 - Galantos IV
Lieutenant Ashsca Screold
"What is it?" I failed to keep my voice free of any bafflement, but in this moment it was well warranted.
I was aboard the Escapade, the former Ssi-Ruuk flagship. The time it had spent as a makeshift freighter and passenger liner had done little to hide its alien origins - inhuman design philosophies evident at every turn. I had to wonder if this did not have some part to play in the ongoing unrest aboard the vessel, its hostile and bizarre architecture increasing the discomfort of the passengers and pushing them over the edge into riotous dissent?
Or it could be something with them being packed into a warship like canned fish and provided the bare minimum necessities.
Commander Thawne had been given a scant force of navytroopers initially intended to keep an eye on the other alien species - the p'w'eck as they called themselves. The arrival of the Bakurans had put a strain on that, but the presence of their own Imperial forces would keep them in order. That was what Thawne claimed to have hoped in any case, but my detour and the arrival of Mining Guild refugees alongside a small horde of Epicanthix had vastly overstretched Thawne's means. Both he and Tullius had grossly downplayed the situation here, but in this chaos there was an opportunity. I felt a greater degree of pity for these poor souls than I had the Bakurans, and so urged Maab to redeploy some of his newly armed Navytroopers to quell the unrest and break up the gangs - all without resorting to mass execution. It was that last part I emphasized most heavily, Tullius wanted Maab to exercise restraint and this was the kleptomaniac Colonel's chance to prove he was capable of that much.
This detour was a distraction from the ongoing operation, overseen by one of Maab's lackeys, as I had made an offhand mention to Thawne about the need of a quiet and untraceable mode of communication. Thawne then spoke to Captain Conn Doruggan, who had a potential answer to my problem.
Doruggan was one of the refugees from Bakura, an Imperial officer caught in the middle of the Bakuran insurrection and Maab's pacification of the capital. He was swept up in the aftermath, or so the Captain told it, and ended up on the Escapade. His reluctance to go into any detail on what he was doing or where he was during the arrest of Nereus was noteworthy, but the Captain had been instrumental in maintaining what peace there was on the ship. I decided, at least for the time being, not to pursue answers and instead focus on his offer.
Doruggan, Thawne, a handful of guards and technicians, and I were gathered around a large cylindrical device. It was over five times as long as I was tall, its body covered in dull gray durasteel plating. One side was flat, with a red line indicating its sensor suit. Unsurprisingly, the other side held six small conical engines for propulsion. I might have mistaken it for a missile or torpedo of some kind, had it looked like any I had seen before.
"It is an Elegance-series messenger drone." Doruggan explained, stepping aside as a team of technicians approached and hooked a levitating bank of consoles to the device.
I had never seen a messenger drone before, at least not in person. The Conqueror did not carry any, even as part of her emergency communication suite in the event the array went down. Since the Conqueror had never left the Slice before now, there was never a reason to worry about what our options were. Surely, the three back-up communications arrays we had would suffice if ever the main one was damaged?
But it seems I'm the fool, I thought, bitterly, We should have considered the possibility of a third attempted impressment.
There was no point in crying over a lost credit, when there was more to make. While Tullius kept Paret and his ilk distracted, I was supposed to warn Coruscant of the storm headed their way. It was embarrassing how late I realized why Tullius sent me here - he likely already knew about the drone! That then raised the question of why Tullius did not contact the Escapade immediately and have the drone sent out. I did not have a definite answer, but I could theorize - Paret's confederates were likely listening into our communications. There was neither time nor a need to test if this was the case, in the short term at least, but Tullius believed so. As such, I would operate under the idea that our communications were being listened to as well. That raised the second question, why was Tullius not direct in his orders when pushing me toward the Escapade? The insinuation would be that he did not want anyone to overhear him giving that order, but the reason only became more clear when one considered who aboard the Conqueror would have some issue with Tullius's plan.
That led down a far more concerning train of thought - where was the Imperial Security Bureau? I was of no illusion that there were no political officers on the Conqueror, wherever there was the potential for dissent there was the ISB. The question was: how did Paret get this far before whatever operatives were near him arranged an accident? It had been days now, and Paret was amassing a force large enough to threaten the Core! Could the ISB not reach Paret, or…
The alternative, that the ISB might be endorsing this action, was a terrifying proposition. My eyes drifted to the officers and technicians that I did not know - could any of them be ISB plants? Some political enforcer that snuck their way onto the Escapade? We were low priority of course, but the Bureau was a large organization.
"I was of the idea that probes of this type can only make a single jump?" I asked, turning to face Doruggan now, "That would place it in… Galantos, if I am not mistaken?"
Galantos was the closest world also on a major hyperlane, which typically meant either better garrisons or modern communications equipment.
"Our next best option is Prakith," Thawne cut in, arms behind his back as he watched the technicians work, "But that would be more distant. Time is of the essence, I fear Captain Tullius's patience will only last so long before he does something… drastic."
I turned my head sharply to glare at the Commander, but Doruggan spoke first.
"Your Captain is certainly a firebrand. Is it true that he murdered the last would-be warlord who tried to recruit him?"
"If rumors are to be believed, yes."
Both men turned their eyes on me, as if waiting for me to confirm their suspicions. I opened my mouth, but my knee-jerk response died in my throat as I came to a realization. I… did not know what happened to the Wrath Governor; Rant or whatever his name was. In all of the excitement, I had taken Tullius's arrival at face value and did not have much time to linger on the question afterwards. Tullius had been vague on the details, appearing vaguely discomforted discussing it - perhaps even embarrassed. I had assumed at the time it was merely the situation, stumbling into a trap and being pressed into service by a would-be warlord. Now I viewed his reaction from the perspective of a sudden execution.
No, I decided, That does not fit Tullius at all.
I took a moment to paint a profile of Tullius's personality in my mind. Tullius was stern, calm under pressure, compassionate when it suited the situation.
A toothy grin that looked more like a grimace than anything approaching joy, a mad bloodlust flashing in his eyes as the turbolaser bolts rend the Rebel cruisers apart. A casual, calculating malice as he ordered his section into position - ready to bombard a populated world with the same disregard he would discuss the weather with. A maddened aggression barely concealed beneath the veneer of Imperial doctrine, charging his vessels into the middle of an enemy formation - wielding Star Destroyers like cudgels against his foes.
Then again, I thought, That sounds like the exact thing Tullius would do.
In the years I had served under Tullius, he had been the picture of Imperial discipline - perhaps a little overzealous at times when victory was at hand in wargames or the odd pirate - but the last few months had shown me a new side. It stood to reason that steeped in the cult of aggression as Arrowhead Command was, its membership could be expected to adopt some of its tenets.
Yet, despite this revelation, a part of me still rushed to defend Tullius. Yet how I would do so escaped me. To claim that he was not some blindly blood-lusted madman? That he was, in fact, a perfectly calculating blood-lusted madman? Left flailing for something to say, I opted instead to shoot Thawne a glare for his comments and loudly cleared my throat.
"Gentlemen, perhaps we could focus?"
"Oh, right, of course… So, the probe. The Elegance-class is capable of multiple jumps, but we will need to overpack it with fuel and repair droids to avoid needing resupply. Our running plan is to jump it to Galantos. It will be outfitted with two separate messages. The first would be transmitted over a general, unscrambled channel - requesting authorization codes from a ranking official. The second would contain the actual report, about the situation here at N'Zoth."
"Does Galantos not fall under the purview of Black Sword Command?" I asked, trying to draw a picture of the Oversector in my mind. I had not paid the sector organization much thought, Arrowhead Command was not a sector fleet in the same vein as Black Sword.
My words appeared to resonate with Thawne at least.
"Is Galantos in the Black Sword, or Azure Hammer?" Doruggan fell silent, watching the technician's work as he pondered his answer.
"It is Black Sword territory," Doruggan said after a moment's consideration, "Azure starts at Cal-Setu, follows the Metellos Spur to Coruscant, and then along the Corellian Run to Xore or Xort, or something."
"... So our plan is to send a warning about Black Sword Command, via Galantos, to Black Sword Command?" I repeated slowly, the efficacy of this plan rapidly falling apart, "Or, we send a message to Prakith in the Deep Core, which is apparently in the middle of a massive power struggle and would be just as likely to attack Coruscant itself?"
Doruggan and Thawne fell silent, pondering this quandary now that the excitement of finding a way to communicate had faded. We all silently watched as the technicians worked, but my mind was racing with questions. If this was Tullius's intention, then what was the next step? There was nowhere we could send the probe without it being captured or lost - and certainly no way that did not warn Paret we were planning to betray him. If that was no longer a concern, then we could just forward a warning over the communications relay and die a glorious death against traitors. I shuddered somewhat at the thought. While Tullius had showcased himself to be more overzealous than previously expected, I hoped that did not extend to spending all of our lives to warn Coruscant.
What was your plan? I wondered to myself, trying to get into the headspace of Rivejer Tullius, What are you seeing that I cannot?
Alas, nothing. Time was of the essence and every day more of Black Sword arrived from their distant postings to rally around Paret. Tullius was trapped on Black-15, and could direct us to-
Wait.
"Of course," I whispered, snapping my fingers before repeating louder, "Of course!"
I turned and walked toward the hangar bay shielding, looking out over the N'Zoth System. At this distance, I could make out the shape of Black-15 and the distant dagger form of the Intimidator. Somewhere, the Conqueror sat, alone and surrounded by potential enemies. We were alone and surrounded by potential enemies, but even with the hopelessness of this situation, Tullius was still conspiring to escape and warn the Empire.
"Would you care to enlighten us to your revelation, Lieutenant?" Asked Thawne.
"Paret has been recalling the entirety of Black Sword Command, or what he can without warning the Grand Moff. Galantos, and indeed any nearby system, are seeing a massive uptick in traffic. So many ships coming and going, who would notice a single lone probe in all of that?"
"Plenty of people," Doruggan pointed out, "Every sensor officer from here to Metellos, as a start."
"It is not a perfect plan," I admit freely, turning again to face the two - but I was already convinced of this course, "But it is our only option, short of joining this rebellion ourselves. We need only enough traitors or loyalists to ignore the probe until it reaches the edge of Coruscant's reach - from there, we are safe."
In the best-case scenario, Coruscant and the Ruling Council receive our warning and rally their forces at Metellos or Empress Teta - the home fleet alongside the might of Azure Hammer would be more than a match for Paret's confederates when concentrated!
"I am not comfortable with this plan. If someone does become interested in the probe, it would not be hard to track it back to us." Doruggan said dryly, before sighing, "But we don't have much in terms of alternatives."
"Well, if we are done catching up with Tullius's planning, the terminal is ready to record. Lieutenant, if you would?
Captain Rivejer Tullius
If I were to sum all of the time I spent in bars over the last thirty-two years, that amount would be less than what I spent in this damned club since my arrival on Black-15… Though with some introspection, that might be because I was an extremely boring person rather than any criticism of my laziness over the last couple weeks. And indeed, much of my time spent in bars was before I was technically of age, and probably shouldn't be counted as the total.
All of this was to say that I did not make a habit of drinking, nor did I have any inclination to do. Unfortunately, my companion of circumstance had that as his chosen vice, partaking often and in quantity. It was surprising, as Governor Nereus had always appeared to put-together and conniving sort, too much so to fall into a drunken stupor. Then again, if the last few weeks had been trying for me I could only imagine what it felt to be the man that lost his planet. I awaited a severe telling off by the time I reached Coruscant, but Nereus likely had a far grimmer fate for his failings.
This had the knock-on effect of greatly expanding my taste in liquor, as I stared down my third glass of some alien brandy. Unfortunately, Nereus had long since abandoned identifying what he and I were drinking, opting instead to blindly accept whatever the barkeep placed in front of him.
Unfortunately, I was more-or-less forced to suffer this quagmire with the former Governor. Paret's eagerness to recruit me only went as far as joining my ships to his. Beyond my gift of a comparatively cheap bottle of liquor I had gifted him, at least according to Nereus after the fact, I had rarely seen or heard from the man. With the unending stream of ships feeding into N'zoth, he had been in meetings and overseeing the incoming ships to tend to his guests. Naturally, I was of no illusion that I had suddenly become a trusted confidante of the ambitious Admiral, indeed I suspected I was still alive solely because it would be slightly less politically expedient to just kill me and take my ships!
… Or so I hoped, in any case. I knew that trying to leave the system would force Paret to kill me, and some radical and desperate part of me wanted to take that chance. Paret would run wild for a time if he reached Coruscant, but the combined might of the home fleet would smash him down with a vengeance not seen since the Clone Wars. I did not want to be in the middle of that conflict, but then again I did not want to be in numerous conflicts yet here I was. I had spent days scheming, plotting, and planning for some way out of this predicament - some manner in which I could warn the Empire or at least escape the reckoning that was coming down on all of our heads.
I had no plan. No amount of scheming could get me out of N'zoth alive and appearing loyal to the greater Empire. Nereus was entirely useless in that venture, and the only other partners for conversation I had were my cadre of Stormtroopers, and the excitable Lieutenant that introduced me to Black-15. I shuddered to wonder what my crew thought of this all - would they realize I had no plan? What would they think if their commander was sitting, spending his days drinking and sleeping, waiting for the inevitable?
"There were other Grand Admirals," I spoke, only partially paying attention to the other officer's question, "I only met Teshik, though."
"Grand Admiral Osvald Teshik," The man, Lieutenant something-or-other, breathed with an excited expression. After a moment, he continued an all-too-familiar line, "He's the commander of the-"
"Imperial Center Oversector, yes," I said shortly. Perhaps I was being uncharitable to the man, he hadn't done anything wrong. The situation was making my temper short, however - and he was an easy target of my unearned anger. Still, if my words had any effect they did not show on his face - nor in his mannerisms as he leaned in to continue.
"Did you really-"
But, before he could as if I "really saved Grand Admiral Osvald Teshik of the Imperial Center Oversector" for the eighth time, a loud alarm klaxon filled the room. I jumped slightly in my seat, the soft groaning from Nereus drawing my attention briefly before I turned my gaze to my security. A red light began to flash as I addressed one.
"Trooper?" I demanded, all lethargy and self-pity forgotten in a flash. The trooper turned his head and began to speak into his helmet communicator.
"Conqueror Actual, this is Guard One-" As the trooper contacted my ship to figure out if they could see what was going on, I turned to the Lieutenant. His eyes were wide as he looked around, clearly not expecting the alarms either. Still, it felt prudent to ask him.
"This wasn't scheduled?"
"Not that I know about, sir." He responded quickly, before pausing. The alarm blared again, and in the same pattern - one the other officer recognized as his face paled, "That's… That can not be right…"
"What does it mean, quickly," I snap, turning to grab Nereus's shoulder and shake him awake, "Nereus, get up. Now."
"U-Uh… Hull breach," The officer spat out quickly, eyes darting around the room now as if expecting it to crack up any moment, "B-But that can not be possible!"
I was not given a chance to respond, to snidely tell the other officer that it was in fact possible, but several things happened at once. Behind me, I heard the door to the small corner club open up. There was a voice speaking in an alien language and a shouted warning from one of my guards. I was not given the chance to turn and see what was happening though, as the bartender had moved at that moment as well. Indeed, he appeared to have been moving before the door had opened, as he was winding his arm back with a bottle in-hand. The first real emotion I had ever seen on a Yevethan was written plainly on his face - unmistakable rage. I barely had time to register what was happening before the half-full bottle of brandy Nereus and I had been polishing off was flying across the room toward me!
The absurdity of the action did not stop me from reflexively ducking and throwing an arm up, but I was a moment too late. The bottle hurtled toward me, landing neck-first into my forearm and flipping around and slamming into my temple. I saw stars as I stumbled, losing my grip on Nereus and careening into a chair. Both the chair and I hit the ground, the bottle smashing somewhere over my head. I blinked rapidly, adrenaline forcing energy back into my arms, which I propped under me to find my sudden attacker.
In the time it took me to hit the ground, the Yevethan had clambered onto the bar and was crouching like he was making ready to jump. The absurdity of the situation had only just occurred to me - I was prone on the ground, Nereus unconscious on the table nearby, the Lieutenant gaping at me with his eyes wide, and the Yevethan now soaring through the air toward me as he jumped from the bar-
I squawked in surprise, shouting something incoherent as I rolled to one side. This time I was fast enough, though I would not appreciate how lucky I was until a heartbeat later when the Yevethan hit the ground in an undignified lump. He had been aiming to sink his hands into my chest - the reason coming in the form of two large spikes protruding from under his wrist. Both were nearly a foot in length, ending in a savage tip. The bone-like weapon, which I was certain the Yevethan had not had a moment prior, scraped uselessly across the floor. I scrambled back a few paces, trying to gain distance before I got to my feet, but the Yevethan was faster on his recovery. He got to his hands and knees, turned and then launched himself at me again, screaming out hate-filled words in his native tongue. Somewhere nearby, the bark of blasters filled the room but I was too distracted to pay any attention to that.
In a more ideal circumstance, I might have pulled on some half-remembered personal protection training from my academy days, or during my mandatory weapon training seminars, but in that moment panic ruled my mind. This was not naval combat, where the threats were far and battles fought over holograms. This was close, personal, and nasty. My right arm went up, catching his left next to the wrist in a wild push and throwing that spike off target. His right plunged toward my chest, and my left hand was a moment too slow. Rather than push, I caught him by the wrist without any real plan on where to move his weight next. So, the Yevethan crashed into me fully this time. When his full weight fell on me, there was no hope of my left arm alone to stop the descent of his arm. Thankfully, my grip on him changed his direction enough that the spike did not end in my chest. Unfortunately, I was not entirely successful in redirecting him-
Sharp pain chased away the last of my dizziness, the fresh agony blooming from my shoulder. I did not need to look to know that the spike had torn through muscle and skin like a knife. I let out a cry, mostly incomprehensible outside a fear of curses. My whole body jumped at the stab, but the weight of the Yevethan crashing into me kept my movement limited. The Yevethan's left arm went wide, trying to catch his weight as his right remained stuck into my shoulder, exacerbating my pain further.
I had never been in a fight before. Well, that wasn't entirely true: I was a boy once. Picking fights, trying to impress girls - the lot. But schoolyard brawls did not prepare you for the real thing - some bored Navytrooper sergeant showing you the basics of a bare-knuckle beatdown was not the real thing. I had never thought how I would react in a real life-or-death situation outside naval combat, safe in the knowledge that if death came for me it would be sudden and unavoidable.
At this moment, through the haze of pain and panic, I was furious. After all this, months of fighting and running and surviving, and I wasn't even going to die on my own bloody bridge?! My panic cry turned to a shout of inarticulate fury, my right arm untangling itself from his left and punching in the Yevethan's head where it slammed into my chest. The awkward angle made putting and strength behind the hit an impossibility, and the spiked crests hurt me far more than it did him, but it did not stop me.
The Yevethan said something and tried to push himself up on his spike and free hand. The pain in my shoulder redoubled, fueling the anger I put in my second punch. With leverage and room to punch, my fist met its cheek this time. A meaty thud reached my ears, though it didn't stop him from getting somewhat up. He awkwardly kneeled over me, one arm stuck to my shoulder as the other wound up to drive the other spike into my chest again. The unwieldy length of the spike worked to my advantage this time as he had to pull his arm back some distance to aim and stab properly. My third punch was aimed at his throat rather than his head, and this was enough to destabilize him. His hand shot to his throat reflexively, and I learned that Yevethan eyes could comically bulge like a human's. My right-hand shot for my holster, snapping the clasp open and drawing my blaster pistol. I tried to push its barrel into his stomach- Thunk!
The Yevethan's head snapped forward and he collapsed again. My pistol was nearly thrown from my grip but I managed to turn my hand and press the barrel into his side. The spike still embedded in my shoulder twisted and gorged deeper, but I grit my teeth and fired. Every combat and officer manual warned to never fire a blaster point blank into your target, and certainly not to do it several times in a short span.
I ignored these warnings, squeezing three shots into the soft flesh of the Yevethan. The first was to kill him, the second was reflexive, and the third was payback from my shoulder. I could feel the heat pouring off his body where I shot him, but once I was sure he wasn't moving I let myself collapse. My heart was racing, and after a moment I realized how much my shoulder was in agony.
I turned my gaze up, seeing Nereus standing over me with another empty bottle held in his hands like a bat - his eyes wide and surprised. The Lieutenant was standing nearby, fumbling with his holster as he turned his horrified gaze from me to Nereus.
"Get this bloody thing off of me," I bit out through clenched teeth, careful not to move and disturb the spike in my shoulder. Nereus gestured toward me as he stumbled back, his momentary rush of adrenaline now warring with his permanent hangover. There was only another moment of indecision before the younger officer darted over and pulled the fallen Yevethan off me. After several curses, swears to every god I could think of, and whimpering "carefuls", I was sitting up. We couldn't remove the spike, not until I had some way to patch the wound, so I had a full-grown Yevethan sprawled over my lap.
My left shoulder was a bloody mess, the cloth of my tunic torn and stained dark grey as my blood pooled in and around it. I could make out my skin through my torn uniform, my shoulder looked as if it had been gored by a charging animal though perhaps that was my panic-stricken mind exaggerating the wound..
I was not left wondering for long why my Stormtroopers did not offer assistance, three of them having filed into the room and moving the corpses of another trio of Yevethans out of the doorway. The fourth was stood outside, carbine raised and scanning the adjoining hallway.
"Find out what's happening," I order the Lieutenant through grit teeth, gesturing to the Stormtroopers. He nodded sharply and, apparently eager to make up for his inaction during my attack, scrambled over to them. I looked over at Nereus, where he had collapsed into his seat.
"Alive?" I asked him, none too kindly. Given the situation, I felt I could not be blamed for my annoyance.
"Loath though I am to admit it," He winced as the alarm klaxon blared again, "The alarm and attack cannot be unrelated."
I grunted my agreement but said nothing more as two Stormtroopers approached, followed by the trailing officer.
"Captain," The first one greeted, a clone, "We need to extract you to the Conqueror."
"Agreed," I said, letting the anger drop from my voice as I tried to focus on the matter at hand. I looked at him, noticing a shallow score along his breastplate, "Any casualties?"
"Two dead Navy Commandos in the hallway, half a dozen Yevethans. They were armed with melee weapons - no blasters," The trooper explained, kneeling and pulling a first aid patch from his belt.
"Melee weapons?" I repeated, unsure if I was more surprised at the choice of weapons or the fact that a handful of poorly armed Yevethans managed to overpower and kill two Navy Commandos. Despite what the Stormtrooper Corps might think, those were not bad soldiers by any metric.
"Slaves in the hallway," The trooper elaborated on the unasked portion of my question, "The alarms were a signal, they attacked using retractable bone-based needles in their arms."
He cut my tunic at the sleeve, pulling away the cloth and exposing my arm and shoulder. I had to look away not, feeling queasy as the pain faded with the spray of a sweet-smelling numbing agent.
"Should I be worried about toxins, then?" I asked, realizing belatedly that I had been stabbed by an organic weapon.
"Do you feel ill?"
"Not at the moment."
"We should hurry to the Conqueror," The trooper said, applying a bacta patch over my wound - a temporary solution until I could reach a medical bay.
"Let's not waste any time then," I agreed once more, letting the man help me to my feet. As he began to relieve the Yevethan of his tunic, I began moving my extra equipment over to the right side of my belt.
"What does the Conqueror report?" I asked, grabbing my commlink.
"Communications are being scrambled - everything. We don't know how the slaves are coordinating." Despite this warning, I activated my communicator and tried to connect to the main frequency used by my section - no luck, only a faint shrieking, and indistinct voices answered me. The same was the case for other channels, even open frequencies.
The Stormtrooper fashioned a sling from the looted clothing, helping me put it on. It relieved some of the lingering throbbing in my shoulder, but for now, I was without an arm.
Thank the stars it was my left arm, I thought, far from thankful, I can barely shoot with my right as is.
"Trooper, am I correct in assuming you have a route back to the ship?" I asked, ignoring the Lieutenant for the time being.
"Yes, Captain."
"Good, I want to be off this station."
I did not know if what happened here was happening elsewhere - the still blaring alarm was sign enough something was ongoing. However, there would be nowhere safer for me and my crew than the Conqueror.
And if the Yevethans want to try something, I could always flood the station with Navytroopers. See if Maab's stolen goods can be put to use
It became clear almost immediately that we were in the middle of a slave uprising. Dead Yevethans and Imperials littered our path across Black-15, the former group better armed than my would-be assassins. They had looted blasters from several sources, turning them on their former masters. Surviving Yevethans were chased off or dealt with quickly by my quartet of guards. The lack of surviving Imperials was concerning, though given the ratio of Yevethans to Imperials on the station, not unsurprising.
"I don't understand, why now?" Nereus asked, walking alongside me and carrying a looted blaster carbine. He was much more awake, eyes scanning the hallways frantically as he walked, "When almost all of Black Sword already arrived?"
"Let Paret and his lot concern themselves with why," I responded sharply, glancing at a window we were approaching before turning my gaze forward again, "I want to-"
I passed the window and glanced out of it for a moment. I turned forward once again before stopping dead in my tracks. I back stepped, nearly crashing into a Stormtrooper. The scene that distracted me was not as surprising as it ordinarily would have been, a sad sign for the state of the Empire or my perception of it. Nearby, perhaps a few thousand kilometers from Black-15, a pair of Star Destroyers were tearing away at each other. It was more than likely that their spat was related to the situation on Black-15, but it was the reason why that escaped me. Despite my words to Nereus, I was very much interested in understanding what was happening - though mostly when I was safe on the Conqueror.
"Unless this uprising has been ongoing for a few hours, they should not have control of a Star Destroyer," I said slowly. Of course, it could be infighting within Black Sword, but the timing was too… coincidental, "Even assuming they are just a naval complement without ground forces, that's upwards of 30,000 men."
"The ships are slave-rigged," The young officer explained, joining me at the window, "So it would be closer to-"
The ships are slave-rigged.
Much like the station, the ships would have a reduced crew of Imperials - and if the situation on those Star Destroyers was the same as the station, then that meant they would have Yevethans present.
I turned sharply, facing the officer now.
"You let a slave species onto a ship that is mostly automated and has a limited crew?!"
"I didn't do anything," The younger man said indignantly, as if blame were the main point of my words, but he hastened to continue, "And no. I mean, there might be a few Yevethans, but they are outnumbered by the crew. Besides, only the Captains can activate the automation - otherwise they still require a full crew. You can't just bully a Captain into giving up his control-"
The officer paused, glancing back out the window at the two Star Destroyers and quickly amending his statement, "... Ordinarily you can not bully a captain into giving up his control of the ship."
"How does the automation work? Code cylinders?" Nereus asked, rejoining the conversation.
"Yes. Each Captain or ranking officer is issued an additional code cylinder that activates the slave-rigging system. Except for in cases of squadron or section flagships, which goes to whoever the highest ranked officer of that group is. The Commodore or Admiral or what have you."
I turned back to the ships, the answers doing little to assuage my fears - a picture of what was happening forming in my mind. With all of Black Sword being called back, the Yevethans must have seen the perfect opportunity to strike. Many of the ships were docked, with limited crews and the one person who could significantly reduce the crew cost of a given Star Destroyer within easy reach. Even still, the numbers couldn't be completely in their favor, especially with the Star Dreadnoughts in system-
"What about the Dreadnoughts?" I asked, my voice almost a whisper as I considered a horrifying possibility.
"Captain?" The other officer stopped mid-sentence, caught off-guard by my question. I did not look at him, trying to spot one of the three kilometers-long ships from the window.
"Are the Dreadnoughts also reliant on slave-rigging?"
"... Well, yes."
The breath I had been holding escaped me.
"Where is Admiral Paret? Is he still on the station?" Nereus seemed to come to the same realization, his voice taking a hardened edge as he addressed the officer. Caught off-guard, the man considered the question for a moment before answering.
"I would assume so? Him, Admiral Flynn and Commodore Ilian are currently… Aboard…" Finally, the Lieutenant caught on to the problem.
"Am I to assume that Admiral Flynn and Commodore Ilian would be the commanding officers of the other two Star Dreadnoughts currently in-system?" I asked slowly, but without waiting for an answer I continued, "That would explain the lack of resistance, it is likely that the Yevethans are assaulting wherever Paret is hiding right now."
"Then we need to be out of this system before they get the chance to take that ship over," Nereus muttered, looking down the way we were headed with a renewed vigor in his eyes. I opened my mouth to agree with him, to move as fast as possible toward my escape.
Yet… The thought of not one, but three Super Star Destroyers potentially in the hands of a hostile alien species, so close to the Core… It irked me in the same way that Paret's planned coup did. Escaping N'zoth would allow me to warn Coruscant, but if there were a chance to deny this new enemy the assets of the old…
I could kill two mynocks with one stone, escape to the Conqueror and flood these hallways with navytroopers. However, it would take time - for me to reach the Conqueror and to rally a large enough force to take the station, hours at least. In that time, Paret could be killed and captured and I would be faced with a new problem in the form of a hostile Executor. I addressed the younger officer once more.
"What are the security measures on the station? I'm assuming there are automated defenses to make up for the lack of security personnel; droids or turrets?"
"Umm… There are turrets, though mostly around security checkpoints…" While he thought, one of the Stormtroopers stepped forward.
"Captain, we cannot retake this station on our own. You need to extract to the Conqueror."
I ignored him for a moment, focusing on the Black Sword officer - try as I might, I could not remember his name.
"... Some KX-series droids, I think…" Finally, he brightened, "And some old Destroyer Droids! Right, it was a big deal back when-"
"Destroyer Droids," I interrupted him, the beginnings of a plan forming in my brain. What few of the infamous droids the station held couldn't fight all of the rebelling Yevethans on the station, but in these tight corridors they could certainly thin the herd. That could buy us the time needed to get close enough to Paret to either extract him, or at least make sure he didn't fall into Yevethan hands.
"Captain." The Stormtrooper repeated, placing emphasis on my title. He was joined by Nereus, who was staring at me like I was a madman, "Tullius, have you lost your mind."
"If the Yevethans manage to get that Dreadnought online, or any of them, then it won't matter if we make it to the Conqueror, we'll be dead." I glared at them each in turn, trying to impress upon them the severity of this situation - or the need for us to act in spite of the risk. The Stormtroopers hesitated, stuck between following orders or protecting their charge.
"Captain, this is insane-" Nereus tried, but I rounded on him.
"Then you are welcome to go to the Conqueror," I snapped, before a new consideration reached me, "Though it is likely that, in failing to kill me at the bar or any other officer, they have placed guards at or around the boarding docks to catch them in their escape. In which case, we will still require the reinforcements found wherever these Destroyer Droids are located."
"And if the Yevethans have already overrun the checkpoint?" Nereus asked.
"Then we are dead men either way." I answered with a shrug that was far more flippant than how I actually felt. Despite my words, inwardly I was panicking. This whole situation was insane, but I was stuck between a collection of only bad decisions. If death was the only outcome, I would rather face it on my bridge - but if there was a chance to escape that demise, I would take it.
Brooking no further argument, I turned to face the officer - who was staring at me wide-eyed.
"Lead me to this security checkpoint." He nodded swiftly and took off down an adjacent hallway.
Only Nereus hesitated before following.
Capital Ships:
Conqueror – Imperial I-Class Star Destroyer – Captain Rivejer Tullius, Lieutenant Ashsca Screold, Commander Rius Harand, Chief Wyatdrew Matread, Commander Ciena Ree, & Colonel Barton Raab
Intimidation – Imperial I-Class Star Destroyer – Commander Milgern
Escapade (Shriwirr) - Shree-Class Battlecruiser - ?
Cruisers:
Intrepid – Victory I-Class Star Destroyer – Lieutenant ? (Dead)
Steadfast – Victory I-Class Star Destroyer - Captain Zanus
Viscount – Strike-Class Medium Cruiser - ?
Contester – Strike-Class Medium Cruiser - ?
Absolution – Strike-Class Medium Cruiser - Lieutenant Pax
Valor – Strike-Class Medium Cruiser - Commander Titus Cain
Frigates:
Spite – Carrack-Class Light Cruiser - ?
Loner – Carrack-Class Light Cruiser - Lieutenant Lo Bannick
? – Carrack-Class Light Cruiser - ?
? – Carrack-Class Light Cruiser - ?
Corvettes:
Overlord – Lancer-Class Frigate - Captain Forster
Justice – Lancer-Class Frigate - Commander Titus
? – Lancer-Class Frigate - ?
? – Lancer-Class Frigate - ?
? - DP20 Frigate - ?
? - Marauder-Class Corvette - ?
Bakura II - IR-3F-Class Light Frigate - ?
Bakura V - IR-3F-Class Light Frigate - ?