Lady of Patience
-= The Sun Never Sets… | First Order Dominion of Lothal =-
“It belongs to human nature to hate those you have injured.”
-Tacitus
Wisps of smoke still rise from the crumbled remains of the city where the Order touched down. Chunks of masonry litter the scorched streets. Only dark stains remain where the many fallen have been removed. Not far away, the temple hangs open like a ghastly mouth, two faceless Stormtroopers barring entrance into the yawning abyss inside. A thick dust chokes the air, filling the nose and mouth of the hunched and drawn in civilians that hurry back and forth across the roads and passageways, their gaze averted from the Star Destroyer overhead, a symbol of occupation, of destruction.
Or a symbol of unity and peace. Proud imperial officers stride purposefully surrounded by loyal soldiers, looking on as this savage system, this world that so bitterly resisted their will for so long, the world that now bends at the knee. All measures to halt the advance had been inevitably ground to dust with the inexorable march of the First Order war machine.
Militarily, Lothal belonged unquestionably to the Order. But its people, long embittered by years of conflict, were not. Things had been going well for a while. After a few weeks of occupation it appeared the population was finally become used to the idea of life under the First Order. But in the last few days, beginning with the high-profile kidnapping of a First Order politician, violence had once again broken out across Lothal.
[OBJ #1] Madelyn Lowe, Governor of Varonat, was kidnapped three days ago during a visit to the Capital City on Lothal. A rebel insurgency has claimed responsibility, and demands the First Order withdraw immediately from Lothal. Our FOSB intel has pinned their location to an apartment block to the city centre. They will have to be eliminated, and the Governor safely extracted.[OBJ #2] The First Order has been monitoring a rebel frequency for several days, gathering information, taking names. We now have reason to believe that a small cadre of Jedi that fled the temple during the offensive are gathering in secret at a pumphouse below the streets of Capital City. A team will enter the sewers, capture the Jedi alive, and bring them in for questioning.
[OBJ #3] A massive troop carrier has been severely damaged after a suspected rebel attack. The ship collided with another unknown vessel and is currently adrift and descending towards the atmosphere of Lothal. The crew onboard will need to be evacuated before the ship disintegrates on re-entry. To make matters worse, a fire has broken out in the rear of the ship.
[OBJ #4] Bring your own objective!
In a dim, crumbling corner of the Capital City, in a dismal, dilapidated apartment with a view out to the city centre, a baker’s dozen of dishevelled Rebels patrolled the building’s three small floors. At the top, handcuffed to the leg of a disgusting tub, sat their hostage, her hollow eyes downcast. Her uniform, usually so neat and crisp, was stained in spatters of blood that still ran down a gash in her cheek. Madelyn Lowe, Governor of Varonat, gave out a yelp as the rebel aimed she’d nicknamed ‘Ugly Paul’ aimed a sharp kick into her ribs. “Imperial dog” he said, his voice harsh, tinged with the feverous anger that had no doubt consumed his mind days ago. A glob of spit landed on her forehead, and ran down the bridge of her nose. Madelyn tried to keep the disgust off her face.
Her lip trembled, and she cast her eyes down. The man’s long vibroknife hung loosely from his belt, goading her, daring her to just try. But she wouldn’t. Patience would see her out of this, as it had every time before. She just had to keep her resolve until the opportunity for escape presented itself. For now, she would grunt softly as she shifted her position, trying to bring relief to aching, muscles, the chafed skin around the shackles and try not to attract unwanted attention while she waited for help to arrive.
Madelyn knew, somewhere out there, they were looking for her. If she knew the First Order, and she did, then when they got here they would make the rebels who did this cry out for their mothers, and make them record statements confessing to “war crimes.” She knew they would pay the price. That was what kept her going, even when they kicked her with steel-capped boots, or beat her with the butts of their rifles for entertainment.
Outside, the sun passed below the horizon, its last glimmering rays filtering through the haze of smoke still dissipating from the attack. It seemed as if Lothal held its breath. Having dared poke the beast, now it waited for the response.