Author's Note:
Dearest readers,
Thank you so much for tuning in this week! I hope you have all been well as there has been so much to look forward to. This month sees the release of "Andor: Season 2" and a plethora of announcements at Star Wars Celebration. It's all very exciting and I hope you enjoy the chapter.
Sincerely,
~ Sparks
ADVISORY:The following chapter contains sensitive material relating to: Extreme violence, blood, and war crimes. Remember to practice self care before, during, and after reading.
Chapter: 157 The Butcher
- ACCESSING IMPERIAL NETWORK -
IHC: Imperial High Command to Star Destroyer Executor.
Executor: Transmission received, command. Standing by.
IHC: What is the status on Inquisitorious operative codename: Wrath?
Executor: Unknown, command. Lord Vader has yet to return aboard and confirm status.
IHC: Rebel activity is rising across the Mid and Outer Rim. We need every agent in reserve. Update ASAP.
Executor: Affirmative, command. Lord Vader's confirmation will be imminent, I'm sure.
The jungles of Teth were alive with wild winds, shrieking fauna...and a cacophony of blasterfire. A plethora of muddied boots bolted across a clearing. Whatever sunlight pierced the canopy shined against scarlet Alliance symbols. The tired company could barely hold their rifles steady as one soldier waved his comlink. Desperate to send out any signal, tears filled his panicking eyes while he turned to the others. "Captain Renol," he panted. "I can't get through. We're being jammed! We-"
In that instant, the youth was lifted by a mysterious power. While his comrades fruitlessly searched for the perpetrator, the soldier convulsed in midair. He blindly fired his rifle into the trees, until the Force dislocated his arm. Within a matter of seconds, the unseen energy kept snapping his limbs. It was as if it was trying to fold the victim in on himself. The soldier's screams lessened as blood poured from his lower lips. The sight was horrific enough to have his squadmates freezing up in fear. Only a swift twist on the youth's neck could push him into eternal silence. The shattered corpse fell, and revealed a dark figure standing behind the treeline.
No matter the odds, Captain Renol had to be brave for his troops. "Open fire!" he roared as the Inquisitor advanced.
Hans' ferocious eyes were set aglow by his pulsing saber. With a wild slash, he deflected a blast into one of the Rebel's legs. As the man fell over, Hans leapt while dragging his blade. As it started to spin, one end decapitated the downed man while the other dug into his squadmate. Captain Renol kept up a steady rate of fire until Hans deflected a shot back. The bolt blew through the captain's kneecap and had him tumbling forward. While Renol pushed himself to get up, the various thuds of falling bodies filled the clearing.
"Captain!" a voice pleaded. "Captain help!"
Renol looked up with widened eyes to see Hans holding his last squadmate by the scalp. He extended a desperate hand to the captain before being repeatedly stabbed in the back. The Inquisitor's crimson blade crackled with each puncture. Hans threw what was left of the victim to the ground and stepped towards Renol. After making sure the captain took a good and painful look at his ravaged squad, Hans raised his blade. Renol attempted to shoot, but the Sith easily sliced his hand off. With a vicious counter, Hans had left a cauterized gash across Renol's torso.
A disturbing silence filled the clearing as Hans deactivated his weapon. Standing amid the carnage, he took a moment to stand up straight and fix his hair. Once he felt collected enough, he activated his comlink. "I'm done here," he declared. "Returning to base."
Mustafar truly was the galaxy's infernal hell. The volcanic planet burned bright with lava streams boiling over its surface. For many travelers and even inhabitants, Mustafar never meant good news. Saddled atop their fiery-eyed lava fleas, Mustafarians traversed their planet's ravaged landscape. The natives had dwindled in number since the Empire's occupation. With many mines repurposed into military compounds, the Empire kept just enough Mustafarians to look pacifistic. But in truth, they hated their Imperial oppressors. They'd harvest what they could from their planet's abundant resources, all while keeping their heads down through occupation. The majority of their findings were 'required' to be given to the Empire. The occupants saw such a plan as 'payment for security services rendered.' But the Mustafarians had no enemies for security to be warranted. Nevertheless, the Empire did enjoy how their 'services' appeared on monthly reports.
If there was any hope. If even one Mustafarian had opted to believe in a better tomorrow, those aspirations were crushed by a single structure. This massive, pronged castle was situated on a cliffside overlooking a ceaseless flow of lava. According to rumors, no Mustafarian had ever witnessed Darth Vader...or at least lived to speak of it. And even so, he was a truly terrifying myth. The thought of such a relentless and cold monster living in that fiery castle smashed opposing morale. Vader's influence over the Mustafarians had spread so deeply, that he didn't even have to be planetside. He could've been lightyears away and still the Mustafarians would not tempt fate. Vader's castle was enough of a sight to stoke fear in the stoutest of hearts. Those who witnessed the dark lord himself either died braver than most or served in his company. For Hans, he felt that he'd harnessed his personal fears.
Hans knew he owed the loss of his feet and all torture endured to Vader. He'd often converted such pains to hatred, both for his enemies and superiors. Or perhaps they were one and the same. From Jedi to Sith, Hans had always been out for himself. He knew galactic powers were constantly shifting, and chose to remain on top. Yet for all of his temperament and bravado, Hans still quivered upon hearing those breaths. Those chilling, labored breaths...
Darth Vader's dreadful silhouette passed along the walls. His heavy footsteps echoed throughout his briefing room as he approached his Inquisitor. Hans knelt before Vader, and urged himself to speak. "My Lord," he began.
"I am told the Rebel detachment on Teth has been completely destroyed," his deep voice had Hans' heart plummeting.
Mustering his boldness, Hans continued. "You are told correct, Lord Vader."
The Sith Lord's expressionless helmet only lengthened the ensuing silence. "The Empire cannot interrogate corpses, Inquisitor. We need answers. The likes of which can only be obtained from captured leaders."
"I understand-"
Vader's single step closer had Hans' knee wobbling. "You clearly do not," he said while looming over.
Pursing his lip, Hans dared to rise. Even at full attention, Vader still towered beside him. "But I do, Lord Vader." Hans practically pleaded. He battled the lump in his throat to keep talking. "I decimated those Rebels because they had nothing of value for the Empire. They're taking orders all the same. I am your Wrath. If you wish for your fury to be carried out, I'll rain it on your enemies. If you want high value prisoners, I will bring her to you in chains."
"Her?" Vader bellowed.
"Anna Dellian," Hans answered. "She's a Jedi survivor who's been aiding the Rebels for years." There was another long pause, as if Vader was letting the name sink in. As if the mention connected to distant, fragmented memories. When Vader spoke again, his words were heralded by a brooding murmur.
"Jedi are to be destroyed. With each fallen Inquisitor, we can no longer risk capturing them."
"She's the answer," Hans assured. "I know she is. If we stop Anna, I guarantee that it will severely cripple the Alliance. Make this my directive and I won't stop until she's finished." Hans finally raised his head and brought himself to look into Vader's soulless lenses. "Let me truly be your Wrath."
"You failed to stop the Jedi on Nevarro and cost the life of one of our own. I will grant you this mission, but it will be your only chance. Fail me again, and you'll have wished you'd died with the Jedi Order."
Hans swallowed his persistent lump and cleared his throat. "Th-...thank you, Lord Vader. It will be done." His curious, yellow eyes listed across the floor as a new idea formed. "I just need a ship. A crew too. Grant me a Star Destroyer and I won't be held back any further. I will set the galaxy ablaze to find Anna Dellian and crush the Rebellion." Hans' face was stern but his heart was pounding. He practically defused when Vader spoke again. And the Dark Lord's answer brought venom to his grin.
Sirens blared throughout an Alliance outpost. "Ittu!" A Rodian commander shouted. She scrambled throughout her burning base while her kin rallied behind. As heavy fire rattled whatever remained of the base, their only hope would be the hangar. She knew her teams would have to be fast to secure spacecraft, especially if the Empire was opening fire from the atmosphere. Taking their chances, she and the other Rodians opened the blast doors. To their spirit-crushing astonishment, the Empire was a step ahead of them. A detachment of stormtroopers rounded the base's survivors up and had them detained outside. As the outpost burned, several flames spread to Rodia's mangroves. As the inferno intensified, the troopers cleared the way for Hans. The scarred and ruthless Inquisitor stood before his prisoners. A Star Destroyer's haunting silhouette hovered behind a veil of clouds in the distance.
Hans cared little for the wounded state of his captives and raised a holoprojector to them. A short-haired holoimage rotated in his palm while his voice thundered. "Where is the Jedi, Anna Dellian?" The prolonged quiet had Hans' eye twitching. "I know you serve the Alliance, as does she. Where is Anna based? Is she on a planet or in space?" Hans slowly shook his head. "I'm losing my patience. You don't want it gone."
The commanding Rodian spit from her snout and sent gunk splattering on to Hans' boot. He needed no other rebuttals, nor did he grant the prisoners any further words. In fact, the commander had sealed their fates the moment she opened her snout. With a wave of Hans' hand, the stormtroopers opened fire. A single, swift volley was enough to massacre the Rodians.
"Should we search the bodies for intel, sir?" a stormtrooper captain asked.
"Don't bother," Hans scoffed. "Let them rot. Return to the Butcher." Reluctant but obedient, the stormtroopers formed up behind Hans. As the Imperials departed, they left fires to spread across the swamp and scorch the landscape.
Since the Empire's departure, Avinaria had come to cherish its peacetime. Its vigilant, steadfast militias had branched towards a single army. Winning by unanimous vote, Ryx Finc had been named president of his homeworld. But all of their security could only extend so far, as their most remote hemispheres hadn't held up to surveillance standards. And a single, missed rotation was enough for Hans to infiltrate the planet.
An Imperial shuttle's engines warmed the burnt land beneath it. Stormtroopers kept a tight lock on the perimeter while captive Avinarians were forced into the center. Their feathers ruffled as a swift punch reverberated across the silence. An Avinarian hit the ground, his green feather's stained scarlet with blood. Hans lunged back from his punch and regained his composure.
"Let's try this again," the Inquisitor huffed while shaking his holoprojector. "Anna Dellian," he growled. "Cheep cheep chirp, or whatever the hell you animals say. She once aided the Resistance here. Surely your people know where she is!" The Avinarians were silent. While many were unaware of Anna's whereabouts, their loyalty kept them raising their wings. Even if they did know where she was, they'd never tell. Hans came to terms with such ferocious loyalty.
"Sir," a trooper warned. "Scanners have enemy transports inbound. Our time window is closing."
"Kriff," Hans scoffed and realized they were out of time. "Torch 'em. Let's get the hell out of here."
As Hans stormed off back to the shuttle, several troopers took his place. The Avinarian's braced themselves as they heard flamethrowers gearing up. They raised their wings as the brutal devices roared. Flames spread across the ravaged field, and the Avinarians' proud silhouettes were reduced to ash.
No matter the Empire's position in the known galaxy, many planets were still under siege. Whether struggling through new occupations or contested by Rebel cells, not every inhabitant was meant for combat. As a result, refugee craft often fled the Mid Rim with hopes of finding a neutral world. Many who survived went on to aimlessly wander the stars. And some, met far worse fates.
There wasn't a spy nor fighter among those aboard the refugee craft. Its poorly maintained thrusters made evasive maneuvers impossible, ruining any chance to resist a tractor beam. Caught in the Butcher's mighty hold, those aboard the ship could only brace as they were boarded.
Hans walked among the passengers, taking his time to stare each of them down. No matter what she did to alter herself, Hans was convinced he could identify Anna within seconds. He'd occasionally give certain women a second glance, leaving them shivering in fear. In the name of protecting civilians, the pilot dared to speak up.
"Whoever you're looking for isn't here," he said and Hans leered at him. "We support neither the Empire nor Rebellion. We're just trying to find a home away from this war."
Hans stomped up to the pilot, who could only clench up. Rage, frustration, and desperation gnawed at Hans as he sneered. Gasps echoed throughout the hold as Hans snatched him up by the collar. Reeling in his fury, he slowly let the man go. "Hm," Hans shrugged. He ran his eerie fingers against the pilot's jacket and straightened it out. "I suppose that's what I get for searching among useless persons." He stepped away from the pilot and swiveled a hand to signal his team. "Pack it up."
Initially confused but more fearful of not following orders, the stormtroopers fell back to the boarding hall. As the hatch sealed and decompressed behind them, the refugees were stunned. Children were kissed by grateful parents while others prayed to their homeworld's dieties. The pilot caught his breath and rubbed where Hans had snatched him. As he made his peace with their close call, he turned to see the Star Destroyer's cannons rotating into position. No full word could be uttered as a wave of turbolaser fire struck the ship.
Hans watched from the Butcher's command bridge. He purposefully focused on the craft and used the Force to sense those aboard. Their screams were almost intoxicating as Hans didn't even blink. With each passing turbolaser, chunks of the exploded vessel spiraled off into space. Hans saw far more than some 'useless' refugees in that blast. He saw the galaxy, and he'd burn it all to ash. He'd slaughter anyone and anything he needed to if it meant finding Anna Dellian.
BEHIND THE SCREENS FROZEN FORCE TRIVIA
1. TV Show reference: It is said that those who witnessed Darth Vader would "die braver than most." This is a direct reference to Vader's line in the Star Wars Rebels Season 2 Finale: "Twilight of the Apprentice."
Author's note: Thank you so much for reading this week's chapter of "The Frozen Force." I'll see you on Friday, April 25th for Chapter: 158 - "The Silent War."
Long Live Imagination and May the Force be with you,
~ Sparks