Disclaimer: These are apocryphal and side stories, as well as informational posts, for "The Imperial: Arrowhead Command". They were posted first on SB, but all subsequent entries will be added here.
The Imperial: Tales from N'Zoth
Set during Chapter 8
Captain Rivejer Tullius
"The superstructure is still intact. However, the hull and armor around the bow have seen significant damage. Repair would require moving all forward plates and venting the atmosphere."
The Yevethan spoke with an alien accent, its voice like sandpaper. Yet, it spoke calmly and officially, with the cadence of an Imperial officer giving a report. Then again, "it" was perhaps not the preferred pronoun - his features matched what had been described to me as a male of his species. Like most other Yevetha on the station, the Yevethan gave no outward emotional ticks that I could recognize and did not seem to register the Navy Commando standing at his back.
"Yes, well… I've had a trying few weeks," I said clearing my throat and accepting the offered datapad, "What about the other damage?"
"Repair is underway for your ion cannons. It appears they have been sabotaged," The Yevethan continued, "The damage to your bow cannot be repaired in the timeframe allotted. I would recommend immediate repairs upon completion of your mission."
They almost spoke like droids, now that I thought about it. Direct and to the point, though even droids tried to emulate human emotions so as to appear more approachable. I nodded my thanks to the Yevethan, handing the datapad back over.
"My thanks. What of my fighter complement?"
"I do not know," He said bluntly, "Speak to the station quartermaster."
The Yevethan turned on his heel and strode away without another word, trailed by the white-armored officer. They quickly turned a corner down the durasteel hallway, leaving me and two of my guards alone. With a shrug, I turned the other way and set off. With little else to do but wait for my flagship to be repaired and for whatever hair-brained scheme Paret had brewed to come into fruition, I wandered Black-15.
I had expected some similarity to other Type-II repair stations, but the deeper I went into Black-15 the more I realized that the similarities only went surface deep. Black-15 doubled as a floating city as well as a repair station, with service and amenities for a host of administrative officials. A small voice in the back of my mind noted that this lowered the number of combat-ready bodies on the station in the event of a rebellion, but I ignored it in favor of exploration. A restaurant here, a shop there, even a theatre.
A sign drew my attention, labeled simply as "bar". A pub, a drinking establishment.
Thank the stars.
It was hardly the most appropriate step to take at that stage, but I needed the respite only hard liquor could bring me.
"Wait here," I ordered the Stormtroopers as I entered. The door was open thankfully, while I didn't want to put off other patrons with the presence of bodyguards I also wanted them within easy reach incase of trouble. I needn't have bothered, the establishment was empty outside a single patron at the bar and the bartender himself. Having spent much of my early adulthood on Eriadu, I was familiar with depressing and industrious locales - but this bar was depressing. Cold durasteel did little to calm the mind, what few pictures present showcasing Imperial propaganda posters than anything aesthetically pleasing.
I strode to the bar, noticing the back of the other patron and recognizing him. Wilek Nereus stooped over his drink, crooked nose nearly dipped into the amber liquid. His thick eyebrows were set in a look of concentration, eyes staring off somewhere in the distance.
"Governor Nereus," I said as a greeting to the man, taking the stool next to his and rousing him from his musings, "I see you have found the entertainment of this station?"
"Or what passes for it," The man responded, swirling his drink lightly but not taking a sip. He was a governor, he likely has a far more developed pallet than I. I turned my attention to the bartender, another Yevethan male who stared back without so much as blinking.
"I'll have whatever he's having," I ordered. The Yevethan moved without a word, grabbing a glass with some alien script on its front. It set a short, wide glass out and dropped a single large sphere of ice into it, pouring the drink over the top. The ice cracked softly as the drink was set in front of me - on a flimsy coaster. I nodded my thanks to the silent bartender and grabbed the glass, scenting the drink first. It was strong, with a vague aroma of caramel, and I was taken aback by the sweetness with my first sip. I hummed, setting the glass down - certainly nicer than my usual fare.
"What is this?" I ask after a moment of letting the taste linger on my tongue.
"Bourbon," Nereus offered, tasting his own drink before making a face and setting it back down, "Though far from the finest."
"Bourbon? I can't say I'm familiar."
"It's an Anaxian liquor, they drink it by the barrel full. They say you can taste the difference between a true Anaxes brew and a pretender, though I never understood until now," Nereus points to the bottle, "That's Trandoshan."
"Trandoshan?" I repeat, eyes narrowed as I studied the bottle, "What does it say?"
"I don't know, the script is just familiar," Nereus answered with a shrug. We had a moment of companionable silence, and it was here that I realized this was the first time Nereus and I had spoken more than a couple of words since Bakura. While I had been pouting on the Conqueror, I hadn't been keeping track of where the Governor went. Bad form, as the closer we got to Coruscant the more necessary he presence became - he was my alibi!
"I'll take your world on it," I continued, "On the bourbon and its taste, that is. It was rare to get anything this nice on Eriadu."
"Eriadan taste not quite developed?" Nereus asked, his voice drily amused as he glanced at me.
"More like nonexistent. Then again, I was a student so it wasn't as if I had access to top-shelf goods. Suffice it to say, an Eriadu drink was more focused on alcohol content than taste. I think I've tried antiseptic with a more appealing aftertaste."
"Not a sterling review, Captain, but if I had any interesting in sampling the niceties of the jewel of the Outer Rim, you have thoroughly convinced me against it," Nereus paused for a moment, "But Eriadu? I suppose that places the accent."
"Accent?" I repeat, blinking and turning to face the man. Nereus glanced at me for a moment before continuing.
"Yes, accent. I was born in the Core, Captain. I have heard every form of High Basic there is to hear, and yours is close. But, and pardon my words I mean no offense, you speak like a rustic."
"A rustic?" I repeated, more bemused than angered. I wasn't an Eriadu native, so I did not hold the nationalistic fervor of my former peers, but I knew many of them would be furious at the description.
"Rustic, homely, rough. I might have had less kind descriptors, but as I said - you were hard to place. You have been in the navy for long enough to pick up turns of phrase. You sound like a Core Worlder, but you do not speak like a Core Worlder."
"A millennia of Eriaduan development and Core emulation, crushed in a moment," I said with an undignified snort, "But you're still wrong."
"Am I?" Nereus sounded surprised at that revelation.
"I wasn't born on Eriadu."
"Not on Eriadu?" Nereus repeated slowly before nodding, "Then it is Naboo."
"What?" I said, turning my head sharply to look at Nereus again, "There's no way you guessed that."
"Your name is Rivejer Tullius," Nereus said, turning his nose up, "I wasn't much going to guess Eiattu 6. That's a Core name, or Core last name in any case. You would need to be born on a world with close ties to the Core."
"I could have been born on a non-human world, or just from an emigrated family."
"Perhaps," Nereus allowed but did not elaborate further, "Still, Eriadu? That is a long way from the Arrowhead."
"Well, I didn't start in Arrowhead Command."
"No?"
I shifted in my seat, taking another sip of my "bourbon" before continuing.
"No. Like all good little Eriadu graduates, I want into the ORSF."
Nereus nodded slowly, letting out a sound of understanding. The Outland Regions Security Force, or ORSF for short, had been a major organization under the Old Republic - though despite its name the organization might have been better referred to as the Eriadu Security Force or Tarkin Security Force. It had been funded and organized by the Tarkin family, and more often than not executed their will over that of the Republic.
This status did not change in the aftermath of the Empire. If anything, the ORSF became more ingrained in the Tarkin family as Wilhuff Tarkin rose to Grand Moff of the Outer Rim. The place of the ORSF spent some years in a sort of limbo, until finally Tarkin returned his attention to it. The need for a personal fleet outside the purview of Imperial Naval Command increased exponentially with the level of control Tarkin had within his sectors. Soon, the ORSF was not restricted to its old stomping grounds of Greater Seswanna and the neighboring sectors, but the Outer Rim as a whole. It was in this environment that I joined the fleet, and that led me to-
"Iego, my first assignment outside the fleet." I said, shuddering slightly - somewhat from bad memories, but also a twinge of embarrassment. Really, the entire situation had been blown wildly out of proportion. It was also where I set the precedent of abusing stimulants, a rather embarrassing turn of events all around.
"Iego? I cannot say I am familiar."
"I'm surprised," I said, blinking, "It's something of a legend among the spacer guilds. The Planet of a Thousand Moons."
Nereus hummed, but did not respond beyond that, so I continued.
"I was given command of an old heavy cruiser, and-"
"Cruiser?" Nereus suddenly seemed far more interested, turning to face me fully, "Indomitable-17."
"Crusader-43." I said, leaning in, "You were a Dreadnaught crewman?"
It was an in-joke for crews and officers of the venerable Dreadnaught Heavy Cruisers, both as a form of kinship and a commiseration for the suffering those old girls brought their crews. There was a small game that was played afterward, trying to find some link between the names. Shared letters, or numbers, or what have you. It doesn't make much sense, but then again military traditions rarely made sense. I suspected that Nereus served, he was a military governor after all, but to rise to his station from a Dreadnaught was a surprise.
"Commander," He corrected, "Hm… No match."
"Double seventeen, then flip the numbers. Close enough. Still, how long were you in?"
"A decade," Nereus said, "And then some. I made enough close connections, or perhaps angered enough superiors, but eventually I was given Bakura."
"Better you than me." I raised my glass in a salute to the Governor before polishing off the rest. It was quite good.
"What, no stomach for politics?"
"If I had the choice between the cushy governor's chair and the imminent danger of command, I would pick the latter a thousand times."
"That much is obvious…" Nereus muttered, but before I could ask him to elaborate he continued, "So, Iego?"
"Ah, yes," I said as I waved the bartender away from pouring me another drink.
"Iego. So, some background. Back during the war, Iego was occupied by the separatists. I never learned why, the locals weren't very open even when we came to help them, but they brought a lot of hardware over. Battlestations, fuel depots, repair stations - they were setting up a fleet there. Then, out of nowhere, the seppies up and left. Not before trapping the entire system. For three years, Iego locals and incoming convoys tried to brave the gauntlet, but pretty much none made it through. A few efforts were made to clean things up, but the Empire was too busy dealing with the remnants of the separatists to help one backwater world. Eventually though, a corporation was contracted to clean it up, and the ORSF was volunteered as security. It was passed down the chain of command until it landed in my lap, and couldn't go any further. The Crusader-43 was sent to Iego to watch a bunch of mining skiffs clean up wreckage - hardly the most auspicious start to a career. Anyway, I was there for around a month, patrolling an empty system, when one day a cruiser showed up. A Marauder, if you're familiar?" Nereus nodded, so I continued, "It didn't have its transponder on and wasn't answering hails, so I chased it from the system. Or tried to, anyway. DHCs aren't known for their haste. I wagered they were pirates and that was the end of things, then a week later, a bleeding Lucrehulk enters the system!"
Nereus stopped his raised glass half way, blinking before looking over at me.
"A Lucrehulk?"
"Well, an LH-3210," I admit sheepishly, "Not the battleships the separatists used."
"Still, a Lucrehulk?"
I shrugged, playing with my glass as I continued.
"Anyway, everyone in the system is panicking. The Iego government thinks it's the separatists returned to finish them off, the mining guild panics and flees, and I'm stuck between Iego and this space station sized freighter. I try to send off a distress signal, nothing. Of course, the pirates set up jammers. So, I do the only thing I can think of."
"You run for the debris fields?"
"I ran for the debris fields, hoping that Lucrehulk doesn't want to follow. There was not a thought in my head about fighting the bloody thing," Nereus looked as if he didn't believe me, strangely enough, "But the pirates must have forgotten what ship they were flying, because they followed me right in! Three thousand meters of durasteel plow right into debris and mines like they aren't there. Of course, even in this situation, it was still catching up. So, out of room, there was really only one option left for us: we turned around and charged right at them!"
Of course, it wasn't that blase at the time. My crew were nearly in mutiny, we were all certain we were going to die. However, the only reasonable course of action at that stage was the fight back. We couldn't run, we couldn't call for help, but damn them if we were going to give up without a fight.
"We danced in that debris field for nearly thirty-six hours. It became quickly apparent that neither of us had the firepower to take out the other. We'd shoot for a while, I'd retreat to recharge my shields, they'd try to leave the debris field so I'd come running back to engage them. Back and forth, back and forth. I guess the miners had reached civilisation, because finally a Venator shows up, the Vensenor."
"The Vensenor?" Nereus repeated, surprise clear in his tone, "The flight school?"
"Not the main one," I corrected, waving my hand, "Vensenor-2 or 3, one of the later ones. Anyway, a flight school shows up and the pirates finally decide to cut their losses. They turn and try to run from the system, and this time they're just letting me hammer them. Unfortunately, even without shields there to stop me, the Crusader just wasn't putting out enough firepower to slow that thing down. The Captain of the Vensenor called us back - I would have liked nothing more than to chase that freighter down and finish it off, but I was dead on my feet - my whole crew was. You never realize how taxing a battle is until after it's over… I suppose I could have taken the Lucrehulk out; rammed its rear control tower or something, but at that point I was just glad the battle was over… but no, Commander Thanas can keep that honor."
I took up my empty glass in a silent toast to the late Commander, one that Nereus met with a scowl.
"What a waste."
"Did you know him long?" I asked, setting my glass back down. I hadn't known Thanas for long, but he seemed like a good man. Calm, reasonable, and careful enough to navigate the mess of Bakuran-Imperial-Rebel politics with his head intact. Still, it was a hell of a way to go out.
"A few years. He got on the bad side of a few superiors, or so he told it. Banished to the edge of known and unknown space to spend the rest of his career; forgotten."
"Well, his superiors failed in that regard. Commander Pter Thanas died a hero of the Empire, fighting an enemy even the rebels would agree to work against with us. Do you think the Bakurans will memorialize him?"
"I doubt it," Nereus said with a sight, "The Empire did not seem very popular by the end… As you were saying? How does Iego lead into Arrowhead?"
"What? Oh," I drum my fingers on the counter for a moment, "Right. I return to Iego, and at this point I'm ready to sleep for the rest of the week. Before I can, I'm called to the capital for a celebration - my triumph against the pirates. Half the Vensenor staff and students are there as well. I don't remember much, but eventually I'm shaking hands with the other Imperials. It turns out, most of them were Clone Wars veterans. The school had been at Jabiim a few systems over for some event or remembrance of the war when the miners arrived. They were the only Imperial warship present that could leave in short notice. Among this group was one Captain Bolla Thoath, Captain of the Whirlwind and subordinate of Blitzer Harrsk."
I winced, feeling my face color as I continued.
"I… Uh, don't much remember our conversation, to be honest. I just wanted to sleep. We talked for a bit before I moved on to the other guests. An hour later, I was in my bed and out for nearly a day. A week later, I was issued a transfer order. The Crusader is finished - she was an old ship, and this was her final battle. I was allowed to take my choice of command staff to the Relentless - an Imperial-II Star Destroyer - and given her secondary bridge. I suppose I impressed Captain Thoath enough that he mentioned my name, that and the Relentless was a fresh ship and didn't have a backup bridge crew yet."
"Thoath and Harrsk poached you from the ORSF?!" Nereus repeated, sounding far more alarmed than I felt was necessary. I just shrugged, I wouldn't have put it like that. I was a low ranking officer, it wasn't as if the organization was going to put up a fight over me leaving - I was probably replaced within the hour.
"I doubt it was them personally. A subordinate of a subordinate probably read my name in a report and said 'good enough'."
Nereus shook his head in awe before downing the rest of his glass, tapping it on the table.
"Another."
I sniffed, tempted but abstaining - I still needed to figure out how I was going to get off this bloody station.
A special thanks goes out to my Captain of the Empire:
Ivan Chechnya
Without their support, the borderlands would have fallen long ago. As always, I appreciate your support!