Private Obedience

[Hal Vaiken]

Marksman Range, Imperial Base Saxon
Concord Dawn
Late Afternoon

The last rays of sun basked with soft, fading warmth the empty shooting range. Or, rather, almost empty. A lone figure fired at the distance, seemingly at nothing -- so distant were the targets they were practically invisible to the naked eye. At this hour, all garrisoned troops gathered in the mess hall for the ever longed evening supper. But not her.

There was something about Reaper lately that had caught his attention; something a SCAR trooper could never allow himself to possess -- hesitation. Whatever clawed at her insides, often sending her on this lonesome trips to the shooting range when she should've been resting, had become evident to the watchful eye of the Imperial Security Bureau.

They had made a compromise -- a rarity among the ISB spooks -- to allow Sarge one chance to deal with the situation before they officially had to step in. He wasn't counting much on it; at the operational level -- Sarge demonstrated an enviable leadership capacity, but when it came down to the interpersonal... well, he was a direct man who wasn't much for mincing words and playing chess. So to speak.

Stepping out from the base and into the outdoor's range, he approached her firing position. Silently, he produced a holochip and placed it on the surface before her. A moment later it produced a classified ISB report draft on her detailing the bureau's observations of her actions during the Crisis on Kuat and the Assault on Ringo Vida. The conclusion -- in bold red -- stated:

POTENTIAL NONCOMPLIANCE​

Lily Stevens

 

[Kelinna Tryn]

REAPER
MARSKMAN RANGE | SAXON BASE
TAG: Hal Vaiken

WHO I AM​

Swoooop.

With each whisper of the precision rifle, the one hole in the paper one point five klicks away, got bigger and bigger. It was like breathing. Or blinking. Involuntary. Inhale. Line up. Exhale. Squeeze the trigger. Shot through same hole. No helmet. No HUD.

Just muscle memory. And an empty mind.

Pure bliss.

The mag was finally empty. Without lifting her cheek from the stock, Lily removed the empty mag and had just reached for a full one when an arm reached past her to place something on the table beside her. Her breath caught for a moment that she did not notice that she was no longer alone.

Lifting her cheek from the stock, she was just about to look around as to who was behind her, when the chip sprang to life with an ISB-Observation.

And her face stared back at her.

POTENTIAL NONCOMPLIANCE

"The hell?" she breathed before spinning around, jumping up and backing away slightly. Then her mind registered who it was she was seeing. "Sarge? What's going on?" Her heart was in her throat, her body cold and breathing irregular for the first time in years.

What had she done to warrant a report like that? How was she noncompliant if she had followed orders to the tee? Had vented more men and women with two shots than most soldiers have killed in their entire careers.

Who the hell was ISB to say different?

 

[Hal Vaiken]

Marksmen were the coldest, most composed sons of schuttas in the galaxy; nerves of steel was what the job of finding someone's head a klick and more away necessitated. To see Reaper shift that iceberg to a hundred and eighty was anything but expected. He maintained a plain facade over his face for a long moment before it abated when his hand reached for the pocket of his vest and produced a pack of cigarettes. The sergeant couldn't remember whether she smoked or not but he offered her one nonetheless.

After lighting one of his own, his features shifted away from the usual formality to something more... human to an extent, "The Bureau's marked you on two occasions citing 'hesitance in delivery of orders' -- Kuat and Ringo Vida." Sarge explained, eyes lingering over the report before turning to meet hers; it was odd to see turbulence in the SCAR's designated marskman's eyes, hell, any turbulence across her whole being, "I'm not one to doubt ISB's expertise but--" he emphasized the conjunction to prevent her from interrupting, "--you've served the Squad well enough for my standards so I need to hear it from you--"

Another drag of the cigarette and another holoprojector materialized in his hand -- this one had come only due to a connection in ISB that owed him a favor -- which revealed another ISB report of their questioning of Reaper's father. The conclusion stated the man had shown solid hints of being uncooperative. Like father, like daughter, as they say.

"--is there anything I need to know, Lily." she had earned his trust so far but the mere thought of going into battle with no one looking over his back... that was threatening.

Lily Stevens​

 

[Kelinna Tryn]

REAPER
MARSKMAN RANGE | SAXON BASE
TAG: Hal Vaiken

JOIN THE MURDER​

It was unsettling.

If he had at least looked like he usually does, it would have been easier for her. More normal. But him looking like a human being and offering her cigarette was jarring.

She waved the packet away, more in need of a whiskey than a mere smoke at that moment.

Running her fingers through her hair, she sank down onto the firing booth's seat once more as she listened to him speak. As the words left his mouth, her initial shock was wearing off, making space for something more resilient.

Until he produced the second report.

It felt like she had been punched in the gut. Why in hell would they question her father? And him being uncooperative? What the fuck was happening?

"--is there anything I need to know, Lily."

The uncertainty in his voice was the cherry on top. Shock, fear, resilience, all of it slipped beneath an iceberg. Cold, stone-blue eyes regarded her Staff Sergeant.
"How many years, Hal? How many years have I had your back? Have I followed your orders without question? Through how many shit situations have we been as a team? I think if there really was something, you of all people would have noticed a hesitance when I sent all those men and women, including our own, into the void of space. If I am guilty of non-compliance, then you'll be under scrutiny too for missing it." she said coolly, the entire statement devoid of emotion.

She glanced back at the report on her father.
"What did he do to get ISB on his back?" she asked Hal as she nodded at the projector, keeping her face stoic to hide her fear for her father's life. He was a farmer and retired war-veteran. What could he have done to bring ISB knocking and onto her back as well?

What a mess.

"Got any whiskey?"

 

[Hal Vaiken]

"...you of all people would have noticed... ​

Maybe he should have. Maybe he'd grown too trustful...

...or maybe the pestilent claws of paranoia were digging deep into his brain.

As a veteran of a thousand battles and operations, you grow numb to all sorts of pain. You, somewhat, become more a machine than man. But Centares had been a shock, even to him. A whole company of stormtroopers had deserted their ranks to join the rebellion. And everyone knew the first step to treason was hesitance to comply. They'd been taught to know that very well, to notice the first symptoms and deal with it before that cancer could grow.

Was he, in his responsibility as a leader, involuntarily become an accessory to sedition, or was the Bureau wrong?

His gut told him the latter but never before in his life had he ever had any reason to doubt the Empire in all its forms; whether it was the Bureau, the Navy, or the Corps. They were all extensions of the Emperor's will, right?

The embers in her voice had been dowsed by that all familiar ice she carried in her veins. It was Sarge who looked more unsettled, the crevices across his face digging in further. She wasn't wrong. But how could both her and the Bureau be wrong?
​

"Got any whiskey?"​

He brought his eyes back to her and gestured with a jerk of his head for her to follow him back inside. Saxon Base was one of those more developed military outposts given its strategic location. Special Forces had a bit more privilege around here -- separate quarters for each operator, rather than the usual bunk beds made of concrete.

Sarge's own quarters were as spartan as someone would expect for any operator. In his case, maybe a little too spartan. A single bed, a chair beneath a shelf, and absolutely nothing that could give a hint of who this man was. No holograms of family, no trinkets of past achievements, no high school trophies, or anything at all.

It couldn't be any other way. All he had, all who he was was the Corps. The Empire. Distant memories of his blood family blurred beneath the savagery of the world from which he had hailed. His vivid memories - his life -- all began that day when the Stormtroopers arrived and brought salvation to the backwater planet.

He picked a whiskey bottle from the shelf -- a personal award from the Stormie LT on Kuat, apparently his family owned a scotch business -- and handed it to Lily. There were no cups in sight, they'd have to share the poison.

He'd wait for her to take a gulp before he spoke, "They went after him to figure out more about you. Inherited behavioral patterns and all that." he referred to her question about her father, deflecting her earlier attempts to call out his trust. But it was only a matter of time before that was brought up again, he knew.

"Turns out some informer's claimed your dad's been being a bit critical to some recent events in regards to the Empire."

"Sound like your father?" he inquired, then opened the window nearby to light up another cigarette.

Lily Stevens​

 

[Kelinna Tryn]

REAPER
MARSKMAN RANGE | SAXON BASE
TAG: Hal Vaiken

JOIN THE MURDER​

Faces.

Lily had studied too many in her career. Watching a face through a scope to be certain the target is the right one. People don't realise the emotion they display on their faces, even when they try not to.

She studied the thoughts waging war on her CO's face now.

The sharpshooter wasn't entirely sure how to feel about it. Was it a relief that he didn't outright condemn her on the word of the Bureau or did she feel betrayed that he didn't take her side? It was all just a sudden mess that blind-sided her completely.

How do you get back from something like this? Pretend like nothing's happened?

She followed him, remaining silent as they walked back to the barracks. The fact that she wasn't cuffed yet told her that she would at least get answers first. He owed her that much, regardless. So she let him gather his thoughts.

The room was slightly sparser than her own. She at least had a familyphoto in hers. She didn't spend much time in the room so there was no point in making an art studio out of it.

She took the bottle he handed her and, without missing a beat, took a long swig from it. The malt burnt away some of the nerves on its way down, soothing her for the news to come as she handed the bottle back to him.

"They went after him to figure out more about you....

Of course they did. Family was never left alone in stuff like this.

"Turns out some informer's claimed your dad's been being a bit critical to some recent events in regards to the Empire. Sound like your father?"

A low, slow exhale left her nose as she leaned back against the wall while looking up at the roof briefly. Finally, she looked back at Hal.
"Not really, no. He's not a violent man. Or wasn't. I don't know. I haven't seen him in a long while." she finally said, looking back at the bringer of bad news. "Has he said anything in particular? Do you know?"

It was all just surreal. Her father was not the kind of person to speak out against the Empire. He was usually content to till the fields since he got back from abroad. Something must have changed.
"Is...is he in custody?" she dared. It could potentially be viewed as a loaded question, after all.

She had no idea what she could do with that information. What if he was? It's not like she could do something about it. She was being investigated herself, so for her to demand to see him was a bit too big of a gamble. She was good at gambling at the sabaacc table, but this was another kind of gamble entirely.

How the hell can she begin to prove her innocence? Or help her father?

This was like getting caught in a lightning storm on the plains.

 

[Hal Vaiken]

Even behind the stone-cold visage she carried herself, Hal could see concern dripping into her words. Maybe someone else wouldn't have, maybe they've served with each for a long time; long enough to spot the slightest changes, the things the other sought to conceal. There was no stronger bond than the one forged in the line of fire.

No wonder his memories of his own blood family had been so blurred, washed out, fading away.

Unlike him, it seemed she still held a connection with her family.

He wondered if that bond felt any different than that formed behind enemy lines where your only cover was the trooper on your six.

Taking a swing of the whiskey before handing it back to her, Sarge replied plainly, "I don't know. I don't think so -- not yet, at least." he fell silent before adding, "But I wouldn't count on that not happening. The... situation's half in my hands and half not meaning--" he leaned forward, palms on his knees, "--Lily, did you hesitate? On Kuat, on Ringo -- even for a moment?"

Lily Stevens​

 

[Kelinna Tryn]

REAPER
MARSKMAN RANGE | SAXON BASE
TAG: Hal Vaiken

JOIN THE MURDER​

Yeah, she needed another swig.

Taking the bottle he handed her, she took another gulp. Her control had slipped under the mass confusion for the first time since she had joined the ranks of the 501st.

Her emotions were on a rollercoaster - collected one minute and unraveling the next. Eventually her legs couldn't keep her body up any longer and she slid down the wall she was leaning against and to the floor, fingers in her hair as Hal spoke.

It was a slight relief that her father wasn't incarcerated yet. There was still time to save the situation then. She just wished she knew what it was that had pushed him to speaking out.

But then Hal's last words broke through the relief.

"--Lily, did you hesitate? On Kuat, on Ringo -- even for a moment?"

Did she hesitate? She recalled lining up the shot on the control panel. That small target. The only thing in her ears were the screaming pig of many many years ago urging her to make a clean shot. She recalled her father's voice after she had squeezed that trigger. What did she feel in that moment?

Thinking back on it, the answer was simple.

"No, I didn't." she stated candidly, slate-blue eyes looking toward him after a heartbeat. "In the early days, fresh out of boot, if you have given that particular order, I would have. But that time has long since passed, Hal. We have covered each others' sixes far too many times for me to hesitate with a shot anymore. If I line something up in my scope, then it's just me and the target. Nothing else." she continued.

She took another swig of whiskey before leaning forward to hand him back the bottle. To her, there was nothing more blissful than it just being her and the target in her scope. When the world fell away and it was just white noise and trust that her team had her six. It was just a question if they would still have her six after this.

She leaned her head back against the wall, elbows resting on her knees.
"So what happens now? You hand me over to ISB?" she asked him, looking down her nose at him as her head was still against the wall. Somehow it hurt her more to know that she was being doubted by the man that had her back more times than she could count than it hurt that her father was now under scrutiny as well.

Did her loyalty mean so little to everyone?

 

[Hal Vaiken]

For a moment, his eyes widened when she collapsed on the floor, hands tangled with golden locks of hair. In the trenches, behind enemy lines, wherever else on the field of battle, a trooper falling down was met with a certain degree of acceptance; acceptance hardened in long, long, arduous months of training.

But this was something else altogether.

Hard to describe. A gut-wrenching feeling. A note of confusion. Empathy. Yet, not the same one you feel when a comrade is cut down by a hail of fire in the line of duty; an empathy borne of the mutual loyalty to the Empire. No, this, too, was something different.

Her answer did much to assuage his fears but Hal couldn't help and wonder whether that fear should've existed in the first place. The life of a stormtrooper on the front lines was completely different than that of a SCAR trooper, where their operations left them almost exclusively in the depths of the enemy, surrounded, outnumbered, and outgunned. Her hesitation would've had them killed multiple times over now.

And here they were -- alive. But not completely well.

"So what happens now? You hand me over to ISB?"

Sarge slowly stood up, picking the whiskey bottle and setting it aside, "No..." he finally replied with a voice merely louder than a whisper, "...stand up, soldier." he warily pulled her back up on her feet. They were close, close enough to feel the burning breaths of whiskey smoldering from their lips. No helmets, no armors, no rain of blaster fire; gazes locked in silence and understanding. Close enough to see her eyes as one deep lake of blue. Close enough that all sounds but the soft beatings of the heart drowned away.

Intimately close.

The wrist holo beeped and the moment was gone. The muffled laughter of troopers and trays banging against tables from the mess hall surged in louder than ever and Sarge pulled back, shifting his eyes to the blipping message on his forearm.

"Lily--" he began but she could clearly see what the holo read -- her father had been locked in on suspicion of treason. She was being summoned with immediate effect. A sour taste formed beneath his tongue. She may have proven her loyalty to him but the Empire... it needed more guarantees.

Sacrifices.

Lily Stevens
​

 

[Kelinna Tryn]

REAPER
MARSKMAN RANGE | SAXON BASE
TAG: Hal Vaiken

JOIN THE MURDER​

She'd be lying if she said that she wasn't caught by surprise.

There was something different about him as he spoke to her. No tough SCAR commander this time. It was as if the hardened soldier had done a complete 180.

The man that pulled her to her feet in that instance was not the man that had her back while she was lining up a shot in the heat of battle. Locking eyes with him, she realised just how close they were to one another. The throbbing of a vein in a neck, the warm breath of whiskey. In that moment, they were two deer in headlights, frozen in time.

Until the wrist holo shattered time.

Jerking her hands out of his in shock, she drew a sudden breath that she didn't realise she had been refusing to take. And then she glanced at the holo and her entire world fell away.

"Lily--"

There was thunder in her ears and she tasted metal in her mouth. She felt cold and lightheaded. It was like the first time she had put a bullet in someone. Shellshock they called it. She recoiled completely from Hal's proximity, face chalk-white.
"Permission to fetch my rifle, Sir?" Her voice sounded hollow in her own ears, as if she was speaking in tin can.

She needed to get out.

Needed to get to that range where she could let out the scream that was building in her throat where no one could hear her. She had often been called for a clean execution - no mess, no double shots, no hooha. But this was different.

It was her father.

How do you pull a trigger on your own father?

He had taught her everything she knew. Showed her how to use a rifle. Was with her when she took her first life. She wouldn't be as good as she was if it wasn't for him. And now she had to turn that skill on him.

All because the word of a soldier wasn't enough.

 

[Hal Vaiken]

Grim wounds tended by a second-grade spirit found in some rebel attic beset by jokes, gunned by gruesome artillery fire in an open field met with laughter -- seemed like nothing ever could break a SCAR trooper. It was frankly foreign. All this. To see a SCAR trooper, those bred to survive in the direst of situations, pressed helplessly against the wall was nothing he ever imagined he'd witness.

"Permission to fetch my rifle, Sir?" Her voice sounded hollow in her own ears, as if she was speaking in tin can.

Curtly, he nodded but as she went for the door, his hand found her wrist, "You... know what they might ask of you, right?"

The price of obedience.
Lily Stevens
​

 

[Kelinna Tryn]

REAPER
MARSKMAN RANGE | SAXON BASE
TAG: Hal Vaiken

JOIN THE MURDER​

It felt like her skin was crawling - twitching like a skittish horse.

Pull it together, fool.

Breathe.

It felt like a lifetime had passed before Hal gave her leave to get her rifle. She had forced herself from almost hyperventilating down to steadier breaths as she turned to leave the room.

But his hand curling around her wrist stopped her in her tracks.

"You... know what they might ask of you, right?"

How could she not know?

She was still technically a liability. There had been no time. And there was no use fighting against it either. She would just get executed next to him with one of her team mates pulling the trigger. A resigned sigh escaped her lungs.
"I know." she said, voice almost a whisper. "What do you want me to say? That I refuse? I can't." She pulled away to run both hands through her hair in half-resignation, half-frustration - a gathering of thoughts through the tempest raging in her mind.

She turned back to the door, but before it opened for her to step outside, she turned to look at Hal, her face a stoic mask.

"Me pulling that trigger better not be in vain. You have to make it count." she said coolly. She knew the moment she pulled that trigger that she would lose her entire family. Her mother and sister would never accept her again. All she would have left was the Empire. Her team. Her rifle. Lorrd would never be home again.

The price for obedience was a high one.

The room was stark save for the drain in the middle.

A cold white. Nothing that could bring the condemned any comfort whatsoever. For the one handing out the punishment, it was the complete opposite, however. It kept the mind clean, giving a feeling of freedom instead of dark walls closing in on you as you end the life of an unarmed being.

Lily stood at the end of the room, mind empty, the familiar smell of bleach almost adding to the calm. Arms crossed behind her back, Verpine pistol in hand. The gallery thankfully behind a pane of one way transparisteel. No faces to impose on the calm. The briefing beforehand had been a simple "Sentence to be carried out by slug." Nothing else. Which meant that she was still under suspicion.

She just wished that they would hurry up and bring her father in here so she could get it over with before any emotion caught up with her. She may be calm now, but all of it still didn't feel real.

Some would call it denial.

 

[Hal Vaiken]

"...You have to make it count."

Her words rang on repeat in his head since the moment Lily had uttered them. They grew louder and louder to muffle the sounds of the older man grunting as he was forcefully dragged by two ISB operatives inside the executioner's room. Hal remained on the other side, observing from the window. The operators certainly made a show out of bringing the man in, handling him like a sack of potatoes. It was, of course, expected -- they sought to provoke her to the very end.

Test her obedience.

Her loyalty.

Lily looked anything but a living human being. No lines drawing emotions across her face, no crevices of sorrow, regret, or guilt.

Blank as the merciless walls surround her.

Removed from all feelings.

The same couldn't be said of her commanding officer. Sarge's guts wrenched, convoluted by a mixture of emotions he couldn't decipher. Something, perhaps a conscious he'd long buried on the plains of his barbaric homeworld, raged against the unbreakable ramparts that constituted his duty, his service, and his life to the Empire. The Empire was infallible. It could not be anything less.

All that was done, all that would be done here was merely a necessary part to safeguard the peace and order the Empire had brought across the stars.

"It's dead..." the father's words took his attention, his eyes like daggers staring into his own as he resisted the operators' urge to drag him inside the room with his daughter, "... the Imperial Dream--"

"You've killed it."

"Move it!" the operative growled and pulled the man inside. There would be no last rites for a man deemed to be a traitor.

But his words -- like oil thrown into that forgotten, raging conscious.

He felt his fists clench. Helpless.

"...You have to make it count."

Lily Stevens
​

 

[Kelinna Tryn]

REAPER
MARSKMAN RANGE | SAXON BASE
TAG: Hal Vaiken

JOIN THE MURDER​

Tempest contained by marble.

That's what she might have been the moment that door opened. A face chiseled from smooth, cold stone while she was screaming and hammering on the inside, unable to break free from the marble prison.

She watched with cold eyes as her father was forced into the room. But he stopped struggling when he caught sight of her. Time got suspended as he stared at his daughter.
"Lilibet?" Disbelief was dripping in his voice as he was forced to his knees. Lily's heart clenched completely at this, emotions raging inside with no way out.

Arms unfolded from her back, both hands gripping the pistol in front of her, but not aiming yet.
"Franklin Gregor Stevens, you have been sentenced to death for treason against the Empire. If you have any last words, speak them now or go in silence." Her voice was monotonous, devoid of any emotion - she was no different than a droid in that instance, even while she was tearing herself apart inside.

Her father's deep blue eyes, so much like her own, had filled with tears as he regarded her.
"What have they done to you, my Lilibet? Where has the Imperial Dream gone to have justified turning soldiers into monsters? They've turned you into something you are not, sweetheart." he cried. "Don't do this."

She had no control of her body. It was on auto-pilot. The pistol was raised and safety flicked off in the same movement.
"Ave Rurik." Lily said, looking her father in the eye.

Her entire childhood raged against her, fighting against it all. But all the bike-riding, hunting trips and teachings of nature and love of the Imperial Dream could not stop her finger from squeezing the hair-trigger.

The price of obedience.

A high velocity slug whispering a hole between the eyes of the man Lily loved more than anyone else in the Galaxy. Her entire childhood, love, learning and family leaving the room along with the light in her father's sorrowful eyes as his body crumpled to the floor.

The tempest ceased like the snuff of a candle as the pistol was holstered, face still impassive as she walked past her father's body and the operators beside it towards the door to learn her fate from her commanding officer.

A single tear found a crack in the marble as she left the room.