"The war dragged on for two more solitary years and everyday we preformed our blood-soaked calculus."
The dial ticked on the table above Sebastian's eyes. They peeled open as the effects of the invasive Force power subsided, beholding the bodies of communications experts slumped together on the floor. Smoke traveled from burning holes in the walls, laced with the metallic smell of blood clinging to the air as the civilians shuffled, waking to the remnants of the fight that had been.
Still feeling the other operative laying unconscious against his chest, Sebastian moved slowly, regaining the use of his arms and legs. Nausea still caused his to spin and his eyes blinked in effort to make sense of the blurred shapes morphing together. They were gone, the rebels, the businessmen and the Sith and the only sound to disturb every pained breath came from the march of soldiers from outside.
The young man began to stir as Sebastian turned to face the window. Hearing him groan in pain, he said nothing as he gripped his shoulders and helped him to sit upright. His head flopped over to one side and the colour drained from his face. Sebastian knew in an instant that he was going to be sick and held his shoulders while directing his head over to one side and away from Sebastian's legs.
While he held his shoulders, the operative was sick all over the floor, thankfully away from Sebastian himself. He coughed and sniffed as Sebastian stroked his air, breathing through his mouth to avoid the stench of vomit. He lay him on his side and rose to his feet, stepping over the other employees who had yet to wake up. He walked around to the other side of the table and slipped on his coat, which had still been hanging over the headrest of his chair.
The dial on the terminal continued to tick as Sebastian sat down and placed the headphones over his ears. He hooked up the terminal to Imperial communications and began to key in a distress signal, which was sent out to the major parties of authority within the Empire. Just as typed in the final line of code, the marched of boots sounded behind him and he turned around to face a group of Imperial soldiers. Sebastian, along with the civilians in the comms hub, raised their hands in a gesture of surrender.
"We're not with the Rebels!" Sebastian cried to the leader of the platoon, with his eyes facing the equipment. The civilians in the room stood with wary glints in their eyes, some huddling together as the soldiers prepared to collect them.
The soldiers said nothing in response and filed in, taking the communications experts as prisoners one by one. The mathematician felt the barrel of a blaster brush the clothes on his back as he was ushered from his chair and out of the room. The young operative walked right up beside him and clung to his shirt. As he tried to grab his briefcase, the soldier pushed him out of the door and down the corridor.