Public Tales from the Empire

[Hal Vaiken]

Cold War,
Alliance Border World

Sarge glanced from side to side at the scorch marks left from the blaster fire that had been unleashed upon him as he returned back to the water spring. The Allied soldiers' corpses lay sprawled across the ground, blood dripping into a puddle from two of the troopers but it was the one dead without a trace of blood but eyes wide open in a stupor over which Sarge's gaze lingered the longest.

He said nothing.

Crouching down, the stormtrooper began picking apart the gear and outfit of the soldiers. Plucking inside one's combat vest he found a small medpack he tossed Rakaan's way, "You know how to use those, right?" he asked as he checked one corpse's foot size, "That one looks more your size."

A doubtful glance was thrown the Knight's way. "And you're sure you can carry on?"

Rakaan Horne ​

 

[Rakaan Horne]

Cold War,
Alliance Border World

Rakaan shot himself up with a retrieved stim, then a second. The luminescent liquid drained from each small syringe and into his veins, to dissipate with time alongside the sigh of relief that escaped his worn lungs. Pain was one thing, but the concern of a continually ailed body was another. He was alive, for now, but there was no telling what the future had in store for him.

"Should tie me over for now," he remarked in a voice far less ragged. His hands pilfered through the gear of the second stabbed soldier, from medical supplies to tibanna cartridges. "Let's move on before another patrol circles around, and get ourselves a ride out of here."

He traded his gear for that of the local militia's, "You all good though, weren't hit?"

Hal Vaiken

 

[Hal Vaiken]

Cold War,
Alliance Border World

"A few hours at most." Sarge remarked as he picked up one of the corpses and threw it in the thicket bush a dozen feet away from the spring. Another patrol was most likely bound to cross the spring to refresh their canteens; out of sight, out of mind, and until the bodies started reeking foul, the two Imperials would be long, long gone from the surrounding area.

"No scratch. Allied troops can't shoot for chit." he snickered, smugness glowering from his face, "Served okay against the Sith, or as okay as their cowardly bureaucrats allow them to." Sarge recalled the Alliance's retreat from Ziost, an operation they had spearheaded, while the great Imperator had remained adamant in his desire to keep fighting to the last man.

"... which wasn't much." he added, "Went back to the Core as liberators when we did the job for them."

"Now they're busy slinging chit at us."

Rakaan Horne ​

 

[Rakaan Horne]

Cold War,
Alliance Border World

"I mean," the former Jedi tilted his head to one side, "It was us who shot first, whatever we find thrown back at us is deserved."

Us.

Us.

Us.

Like a worm in hsi ear, it writhed in the narrow canal and made a course for his brain. It stuck itself there, ensnared in his focus, all as Rakaan decided on his own use of the word. Us, it bounced around like a ball. Had there been an 'us', the man considered within a fraction of a second, was there room for an 'us' whilst he still harboured all that attachment to the old order.

"Just a bunch of men and women on orders, in service to a million other parties in some pointless bid to please them all." He turned his head from the recently discarded corpse towards Hal, "Empire and Alliance trade different benefits, but that's where the Empire trumps them. The wishes and whims of the Senate slow it all down, and the popular vote of politicians can't decide what's best in times of war."

Hal Vaiken

 

[Hal Vaiken]

Cold War,
Alliance Border World

A frown carved the sergeant's face. The Knight's words seemed almost foreign to hear. Perhaps it was this magical Force that skewed the views of the Empire's Knights; and yet, the Emperor Fel had been nothing less than the Empire's Will made manifest.

"No benefit is greater than peace and order." he said cooly but didn't push this topic further. "One way or the other - they will learn of it."

Turning his heel, Sarge shuffled once more through the thicket and headed west.

Rakaan Horne ​

 

[Rakaan Horne]

Cold War,
Alliance Border World

Rakaan waded between the dense underbrush with a lofted brow, a curious muse struck his mind as he considered the words of Vaiken. Peace. Order. To thrive, a state needed them... but at what cost, how far was too far, where were the lines between them and the tools of the Sith if there was no limit; there was no line drawn in the sand, all to say 'this is where we stand'?

"By the sounds of it, there'll be very few left to learn of it." He noted with inquisitive eyes on Hal. "Just make sure you're not preaching to a graveyard."

Hal Vaiken

 

[Hal Vaiken]

Cold War,
Alliance Border World

As he led ahead, Hal could not see the man's gaze over his back but could certainly feel it like a cold breeze picking up from the arctic.

"There's a saying back on my homeworld..." Sarge began, vividly recalling the grim days before the Empire brought the sun reflected on a stormtrooper's armor to his world, "If you don't want peace, you get an axe..."

No peace was bloodless.

No safety was free of sacrifice.

"...Let's move quicker."

Rakaan Horne ​

 

[Aoki-Barran Mira]

"The Jedi were supposed to be peace keepers, defenders of the weak and harbingers of justice. Unfortunately, they had strayed from that path, so I strayed from them. Daughter, I encourage you to do the same."

​

It was high noon. The maple trees lining the edges of the pathway offered little shade from the beating sun. The sun shone brightly upon the world as a lone figure walked the road. Her boots crunched in the white pebbles as her blue robe rippled in the wind. Her kasa hat protected her head from the heat as she approached a small bridge. There, she saw trouble.

Several rough looking people were harassing a togruta woman, who was insisting she had nothing. The approaching figure frowned as she stopped at the bottom of the bridge. As the togruta turned to run, one person drew a concealed pistol from his belt.

Before he could fire, however, the woman spoke, "Robbing and murdering, in broad daylight? In Imperial space? You will not last long as a bandit."

The man froze, unable to shoot as his victim ran. The other two men turned to face her. The apparent leader of the trio, a Rodian, snarled, "Stay out of this, citizen! Or you will suffer the same!"

The woman stood still, her black hair dancing in the breeze. Maple tree leaves fluttered around as she silently reached down and revealed a katana at her hip, under the outer robes. She held the bamboo hilt, using her thumb to slightly dislodge the katana from its scabbard. She entered her position, causing a moment of doubt in the criminals as she reached and grasped the hilt.

That was when the leader realized, "Shoot her!"

The wind died down, leading to a disquiet.

She moved.

Blasters were drawn and fired. Yet, graceful and agile, she dodged every bolt as she rapidly approached. She drew her katana in one, clean sweep. Electricity sparked upon the blade and she cut through two of the men, causing them to drop dead.

The leader stood in shock as she deactivated the electrical charge on her sword. She precisely sheathed it afterwards, before turning to face the leader. The rodian looked down at the fallen men in disbelief, then pointed his blaster at her with shaking hands.

"You-you can't do that! Just who do you think you are! Some kind of Imperial Knight!"

She looked at him, several paces across at the bridge. She silently pulled a smooth lightsaber from its hilt and lifted it before her, entering the shii-cho opening stance.

"Yes."

She activated the white blade, eyes narrowing. The man took several steps back, fear flooding his eyes. "-Wait! No! It wasn't meant to be like this!-"

The imperial frowned, "You chose this path, bandit. Yes chose to harm others for a living. So, you will be punished."

The rodian grimaced, clenching his blaster. As he aimed for her, crying out, "Shut up!"

A blaster bolt was fired. She harmlessly deflected, taking a step forward. He had made his choice. She moved forward, cleanly slicing his blaster in half as she hastily closed the distance. Immediately, she followed up with another cut, slicing his chest. As the sound of lightsaber cutting flesh rang out, he fell upon the bridge.

She was alone now. The lightsaber blade was deactivated and she set it on her hip. She frowned, looking down upon the three bodies.

"I am sorry. You made your choices."

She sighed, adjusting her kasa. The wind picked up once again as she pulled a comlink from her belt. "Sensei, I dispatched the robbers. What shall I do next?"

 

[Dianna Blissex]

Cromwell
​

The hangar was buzzing with activity as Alliance marines ushered workers into shuttles. The sound of repulsors lifting off from the deck and entering the void thundered in the small enclosed space. Despite her earlier protests, the marine still held her arm tightly, ushering her past the common workers, their looks despondent and tired behind their space suits and exo-construction suits.

"Where are you taking me?" She shouted at him. There was silence from the helmeted man, his silence sending shivers down her spine. 'He's going to kill me. They know!' She struggled harder as the trooper brought her to a shuttle and up the ramp. When he boarded the ramp he tossed her into the hold and slammed a fist into the boarding ramp release. It hissed as it closed, her only means of escape closing before her eyes.

"No!" She charged the trooper, putting her commando experience to good use.

"Now hold on, I'm- AYIEEE!" In a moment he was flipped onto his backside, blaster removed and in her hands.

"Stark!" The trooper shouted before Dianna blasted him with the stun setting, the blue ring of energy illuminating the small hold.

 

[FN-999]

SKOR II - LOCAL TIME UNKNOWN
NINETEEN YEARS BEFORE THE BATTLE OF TYTHON

The operation was reaching its conclusion.
​

Skor II was a valuable world, its vast natural resources a potential boon for the First Order war industry. Consequently, First Order leadership had been careful not to escalate the local partisan conflicts, limiting their interference to polite diplomacy until they were in a secure position to directly annex the system.

However, FN-999 had no way of knowing that, and he had paid the price for what he thought to be personal initiative.

As he lamented this, he realized that he was awake, and somehow in Skor II, transported back nineteen years in time. He frantically looked around to find Cleric Hi'maruto, only to realize that he was floating dozens of meters above the planet's royal palace. Furthermore, though he was able to see and hear, FN-999 had no body. He looked around his uninterrupted point of view, his physical position anchored in place by some unknown force.

{You're handling this better than I expected.} called a voice, seemingly directly inside his brain.

{What did you do to me?} asked FN-999, his voice rising with his anxiety.

{I transported you into the world of your memories.} replied the cleric. {This one seemed especially important, so I brought your consciousness into it. Right now, we are communicating through telepathy.}

That explained many of the contradictions he was experiencing right now. Through the moving of his consciousness, he could see without eyes and hear without ears. Through telepathy, he could speak without a mouth. Still, one concerning question remained. Was his real body defenseless at the moment?

{I assure you, your real body is safe.} responded the cleric, seemingly reading his mind. {Thanks to my powers, my consciousness is in both worlds at once. If any disturbances happen in the real world, I will wake you up immediately. Just trust me.}

{All right.} replied FN-999. {So, are we in Skor II right now?}

{Yes.} replied the cleric. {In fact, let's take a closer look.}

FN-999's field of vision suddenly shifted, teleporting down to the avenues approaching the castle and then the interior of the castle itself. There, in the hall, a squad of young First Order stormtroopers rushed by.

His heart stopped when he recognized their sergeant.

A fourteen-year old FN-999 rushed by with his comrades, blasters in their arms.

{It seems as if the rumors about First Order child soldiers were true. Let's watch what happens next.}

His perspective shifted once more, moving forwards as FN-999 split off from his peers, heading towards the royal chambers. FN-999 willed his eyes shut as his younger self moved to enter the chamber, oblivious to his fate. However, his consciousness lacked eyelids, and the impulse had no effect outside the real world. Instead, the present FN-999 could only watch as his younger self opened the chamber doors.

Inside stood the Squib king and a Knight of Ren, both of whose attention turned to the stormtrooper as he opened the door. The Squib visible balked, staring between the two First Order agents. The Knight, on the other hand, showed an expression of moderated rage. With the flick of a hand, the young FN-999 was lifted in the air, gasping while locked in a Force choke. If the legion commander of the present was in the real world at the moment, he would likely be sweating all over.

"Leave, and do not return." ordered the Knight. "You will not fail me again."

Suddenly, the scene paused. It was as if time itself had frozen in place, with only FN-999's consciousness remaining unaffected.

{Prior to this event, you had no negative feelings about the Force.} stated Cleric Hi'maruto. {Something about this event changed you. Let's replay it, shall we.}

Time seemingly traveled backwards, with the Knight's voice garbled and his chokehold released. Then, the sequence replayed itself.

"Leave, and do not return. You will not fail me again."

{The old First Order was in many ways perfectionist, was it not? Especially for its stormtroopers.}

{Yes.}

{Back then, were you friendly with this Knight?}

{We were strangers up until this encounter.}

{Then perhaps this trauma about the Force relates to an older fear. A fear of punishment by cruel, superior beings. Let's travel a little further ahead in time and see how this theory holds.}

 

[Saul Vandron]

Unknown Location, Presumed an Imperial World
870s~ ABY
Trøllabundin
​

---

​

---

The wind brushed the last vestiges of snow beneath the sabatons of a lone warrior standing watch on the barren fjord. A thin film of ice still coated the ground and yet the more stubborn and resilient birds already were flocking in the cold skies above. The man slowly unsheathed the blade from its scabbard and plucked it into the ground, cracking the ice without a hint of resistance. He kneeled before it, dropping his head down as he mourned in silence.

The cawing of flocks subsided into stillness as did the currents of the open sea. For a long moment, there was no sound, not even the mute chirping of critter nor the distant murmur from the nearby settlement -- nothing, before the soft flutter of wings broke the silence. The one-eyed soldier slowly lifted his head to see a pair of obsidian ravens peacefully brushing the sky of the coming dawn.

"How long have you been standing there?" the warrior asked seemingly no one before a feminine voice answered from behind. "Long enough to know you're done."

The man sullenly scoffed as he picked himself up and turned around to face the approaching red-haired woman. "It's good to see you, Eadith." he held her hands, an honest smile curving his lips. "I'd like to say the same, Saul, but you only come here when tragedy strikes." she sighed as he released his hold of her.

"You know?"

"I can guess."

"Rurik died on Tython."

"Then the throne is vacant, you must--"

"No. He's not ready -- not yet."

"Saul, you're playing with the fate of an Empire, you can't... Who is to take the crown, then?"

"Dooku... but he won't press the claim."

"Why?"

"I don't know. There are talks of a regency under the lordship of DECEASED Erskine Barran ."

"The Free State Galidraanis?? Surely not, Saul?"

The warrior frowned. "Why? These are your people, are they not?"

"They are but surely you have heard of the news from Galidraan--"

"By the Emperor... it's as if I'm talking to another Eadith -- one absolved of blood, one who does not boil for a fight."

She remained silent, her glance drifting away.

"Barran is a good man. A wise warrior and a son of the Empire no different than Irveric, Eadith. It is not him that concerns me but the men next to him --- Caarlyle Rausgeber and Willan Tal ."

Her eyes widened in an unpleasant surprise.

"What is it? You vouched for Tal."

"Don't put this on me, Saul -- we all did. You've changed, there used to be some air of gallantry to you before but now--"

"Sacrifices need to be made in the name of victory, Eadith. Such is the way of the galaxy." he interrupted. "Willian Tal isolated in the Thanium Worlds was fine. It is him right next to the throne that bothers me."

"Where in all this is Lucien Dooku ?"

"I'll have to talk to him but ever since... Tavlar died -- we do not see eye to eye much on the matters of state." he sighed, shaking his head. Politics were never his calling, despite the extreme insistence of his family. Irveric's death had completely shifted the warrior's stance on how the Empire ought to be run. Autonomy had became merely another word for sedition. "Listen, Eadith, I need to know here still remains a safe haven for Tavlar's heirs should anything--"

"You do not need to ask."

"Thank you." he softly squeezed her arm and she - his hand.

"And Lyra?" Eadith asked of the children's mother, the famed Lyra Voi'kryt.

He sighed. "She's out there somewhere."

"The dark side still plagues her, does it not?"

"Mhm." he sourly replied. "I've to depart. The Legion awaits me."

"Very well then." she nodded. "Do visit once as a bearer of good news, will you, Saul?" a sullen smile curved her lips.

He scoffed. "I'll try. Farewell, Eadith."

She turned heel to leave and the two ravens in the sky casually followed her in the air.

"Taking caring of them well?" he asked, a thin smile materializing at the sight of the birds.

"Always."​

 

[Cromwell]

OPERATION STAPLER
IMPERIAL SECURITY BUREAU
TASK FORCE LIMA
Dianna Blissex

"No!!" he shouted all too late as the blue ring of a stun shot made the agent in disguise crumble and quiver helplessly on the floor of the shuttle's hold. "Oh, you stupid bi-- whoa, whoa--" Hunter raised his arms as the militant woman aimed right at him. "--hold it there, miss, I'm on your bloody side here. Stark, ISB agent Stark."

"Everything alright back there?" Tilly's voice resounded from the cockpit.

"Blood alright, mate." Hunter murmured underneath his nose.

"Whaaaat?! Didn't hear that--"

"It's all fine, Tilly. Hit the throttle." he yelled back and the engines beneath their feet roared to life once more. "All fine, right, Miss Blissex? You can put that gun away now, yeah?"
​

 

[FN-999]

DOSUNN - 23:04 LOCAL TIME
SEVENTEEN YEARS BEFORE THE BATTLE OF TYTHON

The scenery of Skor II vanished in an instant, instead replaced by a night in Dosunn.
​

Even in the late hours of the night, the metropolis was filled with light. Tens of billions inhabited the capital of the First Order, still months away from its collapse beneath the claws of the Ssi-Ruuk. Its prosperity was seemingly boundless, its riches increasing as the First Order emerged victorious in its long struggle against the Galactic Alliance.

However, not all was at peace in the capital.

Days earlier, the Supreme Leader had vanished from the Imperial Palace, with not even their closest advisors knowing their leader's whereabouts. A council of Moffs had quickly restored political order, but the population was far from reassured. Many felt fearful, suspecting that the Leader had been captured or worse. Still more claimed that their Leader had ascended the mortal realm, becoming one with the Force to guide the Order from the stars. Tensions were at a slow burn, and few people stayed in place for long.

FN-999 recalled this and more as he found his spirit placed on a side road next to a bustling main avenue of the old city.

{Nostalgic, is it not? The heart of the First Order right before the Fall. Your home from age seven to seventeen.}

{Yes... I-I'm sorry. It's a lot to process. I didn't know I had these memories in me.}

{Indeed, you do. Some are locked away so deep in your brain that you only remember them under the most extreme stress, or when someone filters through your memories as I do.}

{Could you please shut up for a little bit? My head hurts and you're doing nothing for my anxiety.}

{All right, sorry. Just look out for a squad of First Order stormtroopers. They should enter this road soon.}

The moment the cleric concluded his sentence, there was a sudden silence, and then background noises began to become more prominent. The roar of vehicles, the cries of citizens, and the moving of various machines all competed with each other within his ears, now fully immersed in their surroundings.

Suddenly, a group of armored figures appeared on the main avenue.

They turned onto the side road, travelling in formation at a brisk jog. FN-999 instantly recognized the gear as First Order stormtrooper armor, and as they got closer, he observed the emblem of the former 584th Squad. As they ran past his field of view, it turned, facing the backs of the troopers and then following at an identical pace.

The stormtroopers ran another kilometer before arriving at a seemingly abandoned warehouse in an industrial district. Just as when revisiting Skor II, FN-999 knew exactly what was coming next. He was thankful that the cleric remained silent in his psyche as the 584th Squad approached their demise, helpless to warn or protect them. Finding the front gates unlocked, the squad walked in, rifles raised and night vision equipped.

Then, the gates closed.

A white lightsaber shone near the roof.

The squad immediately opened fire upwards, with two troopers attempting to re-open the gate. However, the attempts of both groups were futile. The lightsaber-wielding figure dodged or deflected every shot sent its way before launching itself to the ground, tackling a stormtrooper in the process.

Before he could raise his rifle back up to maul the figure at point-blank range, his head had been cleanly cut from the body.

The figure then used the Force to lift a steel crate between himself and the seven surviving unoccupied troopers, whose rifles failed to penetrate the thick box. FN-999 watched in horror as the figure effortlessly hurled the crate into the squad, hitting two troopers whose armor shattered like an insect's shell. Before the group could respond, the figure was upon them.

In all of three seconds, four stormtroopers lay dead or dying. Only the sergeant, FN-973, remained unharmed and unoccupied.

FN-999 had initially hated FN-973, seeing her as little more than a rival to be beaten and tossed aside. They had both been adopted by the First Order at a young age, and they competed viciously in their academics. They had both graduated top of their class, with FN-973's grades barely two percent higher than FN-999's. They both received prestigious junior squad commands, forming among the first of the First Order's stormtroopers.

However, over time, the relationship between the two had thawed. Their worldviews expanded with the numerous campaigns their units fought in, and their minds matured rapidly as they approached the late stages of puberty, cementing a philosophy that would remain relatively unchanged for the rest of their lives. They bonded over their shared struggles and their groundbreaking status, their kinship eventually blurring the lines between friendship and something more.

It had all vanished in a single night.

FN-973 did her best, firing wildly towards random extremities in an attempt to confuse the figure. However, she was simply no match for their inate power. With supernatural speed, he deflected her blasts and drove a fist into her so hard she flew three meters into a nearby crate, smashing into the ground.

Before she could even catch her breath, the figure was in her face, lightsaber drawn. She barely escaped the blade, which instead lodged itself into the crate. Her fist caught the being's as it swung for another punch, instead connecting with her armored palm. Still, the power behind the punch was immense, and her armor broke under the pressure, the bones of her left hand shattering to pieces.

FN-973 slid backwards, putting precious distance between herself and the being. She had barely a second to act.

"So long, Jedi scum."

She reached down with her good hand and activated all five grenades on her waist in rapid succession.

FN-999 would have done the same.

The figure's lightsaber pierced cleanly through her skull.

The room exploded into a brilliant fireball, consuming everything inside. Before smoke filled the room, the explosion blast illuminated the area for just long enough for the figure's body to become visible.

It was a cloaked Mon Calamari bearing a Galactic Alliance emblem.

CHECKUP ONE
BOROSK - 13:15 LOCAL TIME
ONE YEAR BEFORE THE BATTLE OF TYTHON

FN-999 woke up drenched in sweat.

When he turned to address Cleric Hi'maruto, he only had three words in mind.

"What. The. Hell."​

 

[Dianna Blissex]

Cromwell
​

The blaster clicked in her hands, the barrel pointing straight at the other man's chest. Suspicion mounting she narrowed her eyes and gestured with the blaster for the man to back up. For a time the only sound in the cargo bay were the occasional creak of aging durasteel hurtling through space and the dull din of the ion engines running.

"The gardener said they couldn't make an appointment for two cycles. Who the hell are you?"

 

[Cromwell]

OPERATION STAPLER
IMPERIAL SECURITY BUREAU
TASK FORCE LIMA
Dianna Blissex

She wasn't bulging.

But neither did he back off.

"I'm the bloody gardener, lady. Here, let me--" he slowly reached for his pocket. "EASY there, I'm reaching for my datapad, alright? Show you the fethin' logs, yeah?"
​

 

[Dianna Blissex]

Cromwell
​

"You do that," she said through a snarl. The datapad slid across the deck only stopped when her booted foot stepped on it. Keeping the blaster carbine leveled at the man she knelt down, her gaze fixed on the spy, and picked up the datapad. To her surprise, her biosignature opened the pad's screen and the logs of their weeks of communication appeared on the screen. She tossed the pad into the wall, its screen cracking.

"Galactic Alliance intelligence isn't as incompetent as the Imperials like to think. They could have sliced conversations." She sighed and lowered the weapon. "But I guess they could do a lot of things. I'll trust you for now, even though you're fething early. Not that I'm complaining" She tossed her ponytail, which had fallen over her left shoulder, back and fixed her cap and the strands of dark hair that had fallen out of place. Folding her arms across her chest she looked the man up and down, for the first time taking in his features and sniffed, her curiosity sated for the time being.

"Well? What's next then Gardener?"

 

[Cromwell]

OPERATION STAPLER
IMPERIAL SECURITY BUREAU
TASK FORCE LIMA
Dianna Blissex

Hunter burdened himself with no misconceptions of the Alliance's intelligence services.

Having been one himself.

He sized her up just as she did him. Somewhere along the briefs, he sure had missed the little line describing the commando training she had received before.

"First..." the agent stepped next to marine's body lying in catatonic state. "...we tie loose ends." with a fast sleight of hand, his pistol materialized and fired a silenced bolt at the man's head.

Holstering the pistol back, he turned to face the Kuati woman. "Spread your arms and legs." he said and if a dumb glare was what came in return, he merely jerked his head at the wristpad on his hand. "Scanning for bugs, now will you?" a cyan light erupted from the device engulfing Blissex for a few long seconds before he finished. "You're clean."

The agent took a glance at his chrono counting down the minutes before the Dead Maiden would materialize in realspace to process the researchers and naval officers the Bureau had worked to extract.

"We've got a bit of time... so -- Miss Blissex, since we first established contact, has there been any out-of-the-ordinary events that you'd want to tell me about. Perhaps a new colleague, someone getting closer to you, building a personal rapport with you?"
​

 

[Leandra Brax]

Tales from the Empire: A Shattered Memory
Part One

​

Three Days before the Battle of Tython
13:27 Mygeeto Local Time

"You have five minutes."

Leandra glanced up from where she sat, he pristine naval uniform crumbled around the edges from her posture. She was nervous, one of the few times she had ever been so in her life, and she could not be entirely sure why. The visiting chamber of the Mygeeto Correctional and Interment Facility was stark white in color, bland in every way possible. The guard that entered the room wore a white uniform that covered every inch of skin except for his head, and a small black baton at his hip. He stood with rigid posture, a firm look in his eyes, and a air of confidence that would not have been out of place for an Imperial Stormtrooper. A waste that he was here then, guarding the likes of her family.

Her family...

They entered the chamber, one after the other. It was just her mother and father today. The facility limited the number of inmates that any visitors could see to two at a time, so her brothers and sister would not be part of this trip. That made things easier, Leandra thought. She would only have to look at two of the people she had turned her back on. They were thinner than she remembered. For most of her life, her father had a rather pronounced gut, a consequence of all the banquets he held following successful trade deals. He was thin now, though the thickness around his neck and legs told of his past. Her mother seemed almost gaunt, entirely lacking the natural beauty she had cultivated for most of her life. Her hair was pulled back in a tail, and streaks of grey colored it. Leandra almost winced at the sight of her parents, but held herself in check.

They had brought this upon themselves. Yet, she still felt...guilty was not the right word, but she could not think of any other term that suited. They were both criminals of the Empire, smugglers who ran profiteering operations across a dozen worlds and used their elicit income to bribe political figures, and do everything in their power to avoid the law. Leandra had to remind herself of this as she rose to her feet, pulling at the bottom of her uniform to smooth it out. She had readied herself for this moment, thought through all the possible responses to the accusations her parents would throw at her, all the condemnations and words of hatred that they would use to try and make her...

"You look well, Leandra." Leandra froze in place, hands halfway done pulling at her uniform. The smile that lit her mothers face made the feeling in her gut worsen, and Leandra had to glance away, her eyes falling on her father. There was warmth in his face too, though it was mixed with a deep sense of sadness. Her body tried to act, to flee from this situation even though she had come here for this very reason. Her parents, the people she had betrayed and turned in to the authorities were looking at her with...love.

They came towards her, and Leandra had to resist the urge to take a step backwards. Her mother looked ready to reach out and bring Leandra into a hug, but a barked order from the guard at the door stopped her in her tracks. Miranda and Liam Brax looked over their shoulders at the guard, before they took seats at the table, the only furniture in the room, that Leandra had just been at. They looked at Leandra expectantly, and after a few moments hesitation, she lowered herself into her seat. An awkward silence hung in the air for several seconds, seconds Leandra knew she should not be wasting, but could not bring herself speak.

It was her father who finally broke the silence. "Lea...how have you been? We have not heard from you in months. Are you alright? You look pale." The concern in his voice brought a warmth to Leandra she had not been expecting, and it warred with the other feeling within her. In the past, she had made time to send brief letters to her family. But in the lead up to the operation in the deep core, she had been far too busy for even that small respite. She fought against the feelings within her, forcing herself to keep calm and show no emotion as she spoke.

"I have been...busy."

To be continued. ​

​

 

[CS-4444]

The name
877 ABY, Early Fall

CS-4444 was sitting in the base mess hall, eating his lunch, when the rest of his new squad found their way to his table. Although he enjoyed some moments of silence, he did try to take every opportunity to socialize with the people responsible for watching his back. And the more he talked to them, the more the difference from their mass produced white armored forms during missions and security duty became apparent. Beneath their helmets, each trooper hid a different and vibrant personality. Something you tend to forget when you only stare at a person through a visor. The one he could relate the most to was DH-462. The corporal had also served on Tython, so after a few weeks their shared experiences had brought them closer than the rest.

It was one of those nights that he found himself thinking about his comrade, and the bond they had formed. Yet the man he trusted to lead his squad the most should he become incapacitated, the man he knew watched his six at all times, had never introduced himself with anything but his serial number. He chuckled to himself, thinking about how he knew everyone in his old squad by name, and they did by his, fresh out of the academy.

His name. He struggled for a second, panicking at the thought. The name he used as a child, the one his parents gave him, the one before the academy...and he came up with nothing. Cold sweat starting running down on his face and he sat up on his cot, trying to remember.

His training kicked in. Like lining up a shot, he started breathing slower, he focused his eyes on the nearest object to him, his bedstand lamp, and he tried to take his mind off it. One second...
Two seconds...
Three seconds...
His heart started calming down, his head cleared. He chuckled, for the answer was so very simple.

He was Sergeant CS-4444, of the imperial Stormtroopers. And that's all he needed.

 

[Liene E-230]

Liene E-230
Bastion
874 ABY

"Lean back, please, Chief." Liene nods and lays back in the contoured foam-covered examination chair; she barely fits on its length, an inch under seven feet tall and dangerously malnourished, her porcelain surgery-scar-lined skin stretched like a canvass over bone and sinew. A man and two women surrounded the Superhuman woman. The man Colonel Benson is a middle-aged greyed physician and physiotherapist joined by an assistant 2nd Leftenant Moore; Liene thought she looked fresh-faced, probably straight out of the Imperial Academy. Even though Moore was still older than Liene, the latter's visage was yet wearier.

Last but not least was Major Tanna, an Army psychiatrist trained in sign language. The army had double-booked Liene. The previous two months at Samas station hadn't been kind to Liene, she couldn't stop shivering no matter how vigorously her augmented muscles resisted, and the cool air of the army's hospital cut straight through her. Moore and Benson stuck needles into the wasted muscles of Liene's legs and arms. Yet, for all that, Moore thought it couldn't be said she looked weak. "Your muscles have atrophied; fortunately, you had access to your Rampart armour; it acted as an exoskeleton and gave you sufficient combat mobility", Colonel Benson explained as he studied Liene. She'd already closed her eyes and gone into a meditative state.

Grunting, he placed a control dial on the examination chair beside Liene's right hand, sprawled across the foam. Moore and Benson left the examination room; Major Tanna cleared her throat. Liene's ocean blue eyes turn in her direction. "I'm Major Tan, Psychiatrist. For a return to duty mind assessment." Tanna gestured with her hands, seated with a rigid and professional posture. Each movement is calculated and professional; this Liene thought was a skill the Major had received extensive formal education in. "Ready for assessment, Major." Liene gestured in the sign dialect of Samas station; it was centuries old and mutually intelligible with the Imperial sign to the point that Tanna, with her thorough education, could comprehend the icy Chief Petty Officer.

"I order you to be truthful, but this will be informal; call me 'Tan'". Liene could see the pity in Major Tanna's expression; it didn't show, but it sickened Liene to be pitied like that by someone like she was some forlorn pup.