Endor - Minutes after Palpatine's Death
"Wh-" Vekis dropped to his knees gasping in shock as bolts flew just millimeters away from his head. A sudden feeling of emptiness had suddenly overtaken him sending an indescribable feeling of pain. It wasn't just him though, nearly a dozen men around him similarly dressed in stormtrooper armor had felt the same pain. Others continued to fight, but the organization and determination seemed to be evaporating away.
"Commander! The Rebels have breached our lines!"
Jerking his head up, Vekis looked up and around noting the sudden collapse of Imperial lines. Moments before they had been pressing in on the Ewoks and Rebels, now Stormtroopers were falling back clumsily, only his dozen men seemed to be holding steady, fighting the pain and emptiness that had just wretched their stomachs.
"Regroup at point Charlie, something is very wrong. We're returning to the Death Star!"
"Commander our orders are to assist the ground tro-"
"I don't give a damn about our orders from the ground. Our duty is elsewhere. We will return to the Death Star im-"
"SIR! ITS DESTROYED! The Death Star..Its..Its GONE!" Connor's voice cracked near the end as he continued to fire into the trees, falling back with his comrades.
Destroyed? Vekis glanced up into the sky seeking out the orbital station in vain. It can't be...this can't be...
"Someone see where the Emperor is!" Vekis yelled into his helmet, knowing too well the truth.
The empty feeling he had was from the fact the Emperor wasn't anywhere any longer. He was dead. It was pure muscle memory and reflex that kept the twelve going now. Firing methodically they were all angry dispite the emptiness and were dropping as many rebels and furries as they could.
"Sir...We're getting orders for immediate evacuations..."
Vekis frowned beneath his helmet. Despite the explosions and chaos around him, inside his mind things were eerily quiet. As he walked backwards, continuing to fire his blaster he was finally brought back into reality as a rebel jumped at him from a bush. Taking quick aim, Vekis pulled the trigger only to see..nothing. It was already out of ammunition. Throwing the rifle he went for his sidearm. From the time it took the rebel to be within arms reach, Vekis had been able to pull the sidearm and raise it point blank to the mans face before pulling the trigger. An explosion of red seemed to occur splattering across his arm and chest plates. Shaking his head slightly Vekis grunted, that was close.
"Right. You heard Connor. Everyone back to the shuttle. I'll stay behind and meet you. If I'm not there in five after you arrive go without me.." Reaching down, Vekis grabbed up his DLT-19 rifle before turning away from the fight, a grimace hidden by the helmet.
There were only clicks of acknowledgment as the men picked up their pace pulling further into the jungle. What had happened? A hundred questions went trough Vekis's mind, but right now none of those mattered. As the groups formation staggered out they began to pick up the pace disengaging the rebels and moving past fallen Stormtroopers and Rebels alike.
"Sir we're 5 minutes out from the shuttle. Where are you?"
"I'm a half mile from your position. Give me a few minutes and I'll be there, just setting some surprises for the Rebels...Bloody scum."
Vekis snarled inside his helmet as he paused a moment to drop his rucksack. Pulling out several HX2 Mines he began to pause every several yards putting them down with proximity fuses. It'd cause severe casualties and slow the rebels down. A grin couldn't be helped as the helmets sound amps picked up the screams of injured rebels preceded by a blast. In several minutes he'd be able to meet his team and get off this cursed rock he thought. His sprint though came to a sudden halt as he heard the familiar E-11 blasters mixed in with DLT-19s..What the hell? There were no enemies in that area, that was their landing zone.
"Sir its an ambush! Don't come, I repeat don't come to the landing zone, Stormtroopers are at-"
Vekis didn't need to hear the rest to put it together. Why though? Things were growing more and more confused. His team was being ambushed by stormtroopers? Rebels closing in? Gritting his teeth, Vekis turned to a tree and slammed his fist into the trunk of it wth a primal scream of frustration. Nothign was going as it was meant to. Their one and only commander Palpatine was dead, the Empire it seemed wanted him dead without reason. Wait...Those bastards...Now it made sense. An ironic chuckle was let out as Vekis realized what was occuring. How...Palpatine.
Vekis's team had been dispatched to the ground as a formality to ensure things went smoothly. No one had dreamed of such a disaster. A quick mop up operation and back to their regular station. Whoever had been left in charge seemed to know Vekis's team weren't the normal Stormtroopers.
"YOU IMPERIAL FILTH!"
Vekis blinked, his mind once more wretched violently from his thoughts as he felt a heavy weight on his back. Dropping to the ground, Vekis grunted reaching for the vibroblade on his belt. Within several moments he'd managed to twist himself about and stab the man several times in the side and neck leading to more blood spattering onto his armor. Quickly jumping up, Vekis's hand was once more moving for his sidearm until he realized he had been surrounded by a dozen rebels. Even he'd have a hard time with that.
"GO FOR IT! Please I beg of you just try it you stormtrooper trash!" the female commander of the rebel was clearly shaken by the display she'd just seen, her blaster pistol raised to Vekis, tears flowing down her face.
Vekis turned his helmet from side to side. Ah, several of the men and women were bleeding, pieces of sharpnel in them. This must have been the team that had been chasing them. In the time he'd taken to stop and assess the situation they'd caught up with him. Lucky for him they weren't Imperials...They would ever have stopped and demanded a surrender. Continuing to snicker softly, if only to provoke the group more, Vekis dropped the vibro-blade. Reaching to the center of his utility belt he pressed at the clasp allowing it to drop to the ground leaving him unarmed.
"Let's negotiate..." The words came out smoothly enough, but inside Vekis was holding back a bitter urge to vomit.
Reaching for his helmet, he pulled it off carefully not wanting to give any Rebel fool an excuse to shoot though he doubted any would be able to hit him given the way half their arms were shaking. Why were they so scared? Ah, it made sense the more he thought. Most of these people were barely adults and laughable soldiers. Ragtag rebels at best and here he was, a man who'd just gutted a friend of theres and had armor covered in blood and guts. Compared to them he must've looked ages older. Mid to late thirties with several faded battle scars over his face and hardened eyes that betrayed not even a hint of emotion or sympathy.
"Mando Malo, TK-4193. 501st Legion. Now take me to your commanding officer so we can discuss terms of surrender." The tone of arrogance would've been astounding to most that smug look on Vekis's face contiuing to taunt his captors.
This was why Palpatine was their commander. Who ever was in charge was a fool. Sacrificing over a dozen Royal Guards. All his men were competent enough to keep with their covers and endure captivity. A dozen Royal Guards, in rebel hands would've been a huge infiltration move for the Empire, but now it was just him. With time passing, Vekis was just feeling the realization of how alone he was. The Rebels had murdered his Emperor...The Empire had murdered his compatriots. Both sides had taken from him and both would suffer at some point or the other. His face held that stubborn arrogant look but inside was a pain that no one could ever comprehend. Let the Rebels think he was just a highly trained Stormtrooper. His weaponry already gave away he wasn't the normal stormtrooper, but why let them know who he really was and better yet what he really knew?
TBC - Erasmar
Endor -- High Orbit
Minutes after Palpatine's Death
The Denunciator was a Mark-II Imperial Star Destroyer, and in the last few minutes it had become the Galactic Empire's most advanced artifice of war in the Endor system. A wave of dismay and fear had pummeled the crew, and moments later they watched with horror as the Executor, the flagship of the Imperial Navy, careened into the Death Star and detonated in a flash of fire. They had been stunned to witness such a catastrophe, to hear the horrific final communications emanating from the titanic ship as it was lost.
Captain Kiernist had staggered against the command rail as the ship reeled from a blow to the hull. A lieutenant shouted the ship's vitals to him from across the bridge; protocol was breaking. Kiernist, an aging Caridan, had felt a surge of panic threatening to overpower him.
Then, a flash from the viewport, followed by a glare of white. Everyone on the bridge covered their eyes or twisted away. Briefly, there had been only silence. Kiernist blinked to clear his eyes. The cacophony of the bridge had calmed to the gentle toning and tapping of instrument panels. But then chaos had returned with a blaring of alarms, and Kiernist called for a status update as he turned to look out at the battle before them.
=============
"It's gone," gasped the lieutenant, forgetting the appropriate 'sir' in his remark.
Captain Hanic'dov chose not to bother with an admonishment; there were more pressing matters. With the Executor destroyed, the fleet would be scattered if the chain of command were not reëstablished immediately. His ship -- the Retaliator -- was not next in line, but it did command the battlegroup that formed the fleet's right flank.
He grabbed the lieutenant's arm and jolted him away from the viewport. "Contact the Chimaera, with all due haste."
"Right away!"
The lieutenant was gone before Hanic'dov could think to reprimand him for this second breach of etiquette. He couldn't fault the young man -- barely thirty, by the looks of him -- for his efficiency even in the face of such a disaster as the lost of a star dreadnought. Hanic'dov could only hope that the equally efficient crew of the Chimaera was still alive and well, for their ship was now in command of the Imperial fleet at Endor.
He glanced at his second lieutenant, who was stationed at the Imperial Command console. The other man caught his gaze and briefly shook his head before turning his attention back to the screen.
Hanic'dov cursed quietly as he turned back to the battle. No word from either Admiral Harrsk or Prittick. The Chimaera would take the lead, as it was now the best ship in the fleet, but surely either of the admirals would have orders to issue? Nearly ten minutes had now passed since the Executor was lost. Where was Imperial Command?
The young lieutenant rushed back to his side. "Sir, sir!"
Hanic'dov spun and glared at the man, who quickly saluted not once but twice. "Word from the--"
"Sir, word from the Chimaera, sir. We're to vacate the system--"
"What?" Hanic'dov shouted. All other voices on the bridge went silent.
The lieutenant trembled. "Th-the orders -- our orders are, sir, to vacate the Endor system and regroup at focus point five."
"Who's in charge of the Chimaera? Has Admiral Harrsk taken command?"
"Sir, no, sir," said the lieutenant, saluting again in his frenzy. "Captain Pellaeon is in command. The orders come from him, sir."
The bridge maintained its silence, watching Captain Hanic'dov as he turned his back and looked out at the debris field of the Death Star and Executor and the battle that still raged around it. A rebel frigate listed to its starboard and decapitated the bridge tower from a destroyer, perhaps the Indictor, he could not be sure. The destruction and carnage was a silent display of physics and volatility, a scene that a younger, victorious Hanic'dov would have called majestic in its elegance. Now it was only destruction and carnage.
"Relay the orders," he said at last. "Confirm with the Chimaera, then relay the orders to our battlegroup. The rebels have the day."
=============
Captain Kiernist could not believe his ears. But there was much occurring now that he had trouble accepting, from the loss of the Indictor just moments ago to the utter annihilation of the Death Star minutes before that. All those resources, all those good men -- wasted. The vanity of a deranged sorcerer.
His lieutenant approached him quietly. The bridge had regained some of its composure, though many now assumed their were facing their deaths as well. The Denunciator still held its place at the end of the line, the right flank of their battlegroup, but the rebel fleet would close on them soon enough. It seemed their gunners were no longer as effective, their TIE pilots no longer as precise.
"What is it?" he said flatly.
"New orders from the Retaliator, sir." The lieutenant's voice was low. "Captain Pellaeon of the Chimaera has ordered us to fall back to focus point five immediately, sir."
Kiernist briefly hung his head as he leaned against the bridge railing. "Confirm with the Retaliator and then put it through." The younger man left him. "So, Gilead," he said aloud, "you have taken this moment as your own. I wonder where Admiral Harrsk is, or Prittick. We will see how long you have your chair aboard the Chimaera."
"Captain."
He turned. It was Commander Harm, attaché from Imperial Intelligence. "Yes, Harm," Kiernist said without masking his disdain.
"Intelligence has separate orders for you, captain."
"My orders come from--"
"From Director Isard herself." Harm smiled coolly and handed him an encrypted datapad. "I need access to your communications suite," he said as Kiernist read the orders. "I trust there will be no further issue?"
Kiernist didn't quite understand the orders, but he did understand the seal of the Director of Intelligence. He also understood the seal from Imperial High Command that was strangely supporting it.
"Fine, make it quick. We're falling back, and I'll need those systems."
"It will take but a moment. Sir." Harm spun on his heels and crossed to the back of the bridge with all the crispness of a man who's life had been dedicated to cold precision.
~
Endor -- The Forest Moon
Three hours after Palpatine's Death
Commander Tevin Neahlin lowered his blaster rifle in front of him and placed one of his feet atop a log, exhaling with satisfaction as he surveyed what appeared to be an entire platoon of stormtroopers marching his way -- unarmed, hands clasped behind their helmets, and escorted by ten camouflaged Rebel commandos. A few of the faceless helmets turned toward him as they passed, and Neahlin smiled just noticeably, allowing himself a brief display pride before a defeated enemy.
"Commander!" Sergeant Ortrass jogged to his side.
"Ortrass." Neahlin was pleased to see the seasoned sergeant alive and apparently unharmed.
"We think that's the last of them, sir. Gold squadron's dispatched a couple Y's to make some aerial scans for any pockets that might be hiding out, but we're pretty confident."
"All right, good work, sergeant."
Ortrass scratched at the stubble covered his gaunt jaw. He was inspecting Neahlin's shoulder. "You OK, commander?"
"What?" he glanced down and brushed at the thick crimson stain on his fatigues. "Oh, not me. Ewok, I think."
"Poor, fuzzy little bastards," Ortrass said.
"Yeah." Neahlin squinted past the sergeant. A speeder bike was approaching down the main trail.
Ortrass chuckled. "Tough buggers, though. I saw a pair of them drag down this buckethead, tear off his helmet, and just start beatin' the guy with their little paws. Funniest thing I ever saw. Well, until one of them finally got a rock."
The speeder bike halted a few feet away from them. The courier didn't bother dismounting. "Commander Neahlin?"
"Yeah. What is it?"
"General Solo wants you back at the main bunker. Prisoner interrogation."
Ortrass grinned. "Your speciality, commander."
Neahlin frowned and slung his rifle over his shoulder. "Yeah."
Ortrass looked back at the courier. "So, do we get a ride back to--" he began, but the courier zipped away. "To Hoth with you, greenhorn!" he shouted.
"All right, sergeant," said Neahlin. "Let's get walking."
=============
They watched the prisoner as he sat in the makeshift interrogation chamber, which was actually a cubicle walled by empty munition crates and monitored by a blue astromech droid. Two commandos stood outside the entrance to the cubicle, which was sealed by a kinetic shield that shimmered blue in the fading afternoon light.
"He's just sitting there," said Durl, a twenty-year-old Corellian. He peered at the display recorded by the R2 unit.
"Of course he is," Plen Thum bubbled with impatience. The Sullustan felt it was beneath him to be assigned such an inexperienced assistant. "He's just a stormtrooper."
"Then why does General Solo want him interrogated separate from the others? Bucketheads don't know anything."
"The general believes this stormtrooper might be of some value. He's claiming to have some information that might be of use to us, but I don't believe him. He's simply bargaining. Doesn't want to eat the usual prisoner fare."
They looked at him some more. He was scarred, looked to be in his mid- to late-thirties. Wiry but solid build. Hard but empty eyes.
"I'm going in," announced Plen Thum.
"But General Solo specifically said to wait for Commander--"
"I don't care," said Plen Thum. "What does it matter? He's a stormtrooper. Even if he does have something for us, it won't be hard to detract it from him."
"Extract it?"
Plen Thum narrowed his eyes. "Watch the monitor."
He waddled his way to the guards and the kinetic shield, then entered the cubicle. "So--" he began, but was cut off.
~
(TBC - Emp)