The waves washed listlessly upon the shore of that Coruscant sea, the soft breeze of the city world’s universal season brushing across the two people. It was always exactly the same, always the same speed and temperature, a monotone wind which forever crept around the planet, spurred along by the planet’s climate control systems. It was something you learned to live with, like gravity; you always leaned into it at the exact same angle, and it never surprised you.

Except that day. Even as Theren reflected upon the sameness of it all, the gradual buffeting of an unnatural storm began to nudge in on the periphery of his senses; they would need to get inside, soon. “It’ll only be a few minutes, now.” He said.

She looked up at him slowly, smiling. “Just a little longer.” Her head came to rest softly upon Theren’s shoulder. “Just a little longer. Do you have to go?”

“Yeah.” Theren responded, without missing a beat. “You know that I do.”

“I guess.” She shrugged. “I just never thought that you’d finally be accepted. You’ve been sending applications to the government for so long, I never thought they’d put up the money for your tuition.”

“I guess something about me impressed them. Possibly my startlingly good looks.” Theren chuckled. “Pester anyone about anything long enough, and they’ll do it just to get you to piss off, I guess.”

“I guess.” The storm had started, the winds picking up pace and a drizzle beginning to fall. They’d had to shut down the climate controls, just for awhile; after a thousand years of holding back Coruscant’s weather, the weather had won and earned it’s day. Just one battle.

Just for a while.



“As you know, Mr. Gevel,” Commodore Shyle said, “Imperial Center, in light of recent events, has called for a review of all Imperial personnel in this fleet.” He cleared his throat. “This is a routine interview – everyone is being put through it.”

“This isn’t really a fleet, Commodore, after the pounding we took from Tilaric Brel.” Theren retorted. “And if you honestly think I don’t know why you’re interviewing me, instead of some Petty Officer farmed off of Tatooine… I don’t know what to tell you.” The man shrugged.

“Well, what am I going to talk to you about, then?” Shyle asked him, mocking his self-assured sarcasm.

“The reason that Uliek Del’Jaryll was promoted last week, and I wasn’t.” Theren stated, rather simply. The other man blinked at him once, then again, digesting the answer silently.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Gevel.” Shyle said, shaking his head. “This is an interview to review your fitness for the duty you serve.” There was a certain falseness to his tone, a telltale falseness that always permeated discussions between Shyle and Theren. A flatness that betrayed to anyone who knew either of the two Imperial officers a relationship which was less than up to Imperial standards.

“You mean a review of my fitness to fetch you coffee in my brand new post as Cadet?” Gevel sneered back

“You know, Line Captain,” He began, standing up from his desk, and staring out the window into the endless starry night of space travel, “You seem to have all the answers right there in that smart little head of yours. You’ve got a witty retort for everything I say. With your… talents, if you had the dedication the Empire demands of it’s subjects, you could be much more than you are.”

“Because, that’s how we measure a person’s worth, right?” Theren replied, voice awash in false empathy. “Your rank. How much ass you have, in the totality of your career, kissed, and the subsequent rank that equates to.”

“That is quite enough!” The Commodore said, taking a deep breath. “You sniveling little whelp. This is just what I’m talking about, this act, right here. Always had everything you ever needed, courtesy the Imperial officers who gave up their lives, but that isn’t enough for you.”

“The officers, yes, of course, Mr. Shyle. Not the enlisted men, right? Because this is the Imperial bureaucracy, and around here, you’re not yourself, you’re the color of your rank insignia and the size of your wallet, right?”

Shyle ignored him completely. “So you have to be ungrateful, and you have to thumb your nose at authority, because it makes you feel better. With all due respect, Gevel, Line Captain is typically viewed as a training position for Commodore. And with your attitude, you are just not Imperial material. Case closed. If you feel the need to spite me for saying it, so be it.”

“Don’t give me that act, Shyle. Since day one, you’ve had a problem with me. Since that stupid training exercise of yours!” The exercise had been an adaptation of a long-standing psychological analysis technique; each student was given a remote control, and repeatedly ordered to electrically shock one of their crewmates. “I wouldn’t lick your boots, so you despised me. Because you’re a pompous little man who gets his jollies the way he always had – manipulating his subordinates with his authority.”

“Obedience is an essential requisite of all Imperial officers, Mr. Gevel!” Shyle responded. “You wouldn’t even shock the man once! How will you take orders in the middle of a firefight?”

“Fighting the enemy and being a pawn for a self-righteous Commodore’s sadism aren’t the same thing, except in that head of yours, Shyle.” Theren grimaced. “You know I scored higher than Del’Jaryll on every aptitude test. You know I’m a better officer, you know I perform my duties better than he does. But you’ve hated me from day one, Shyle, because I wouldn’t be your lap dog. You’ve been itching for a way to get back at me for showing you up at the demonstration to Vice-Admiral Vikar, for not being a perfect carbon copy of you and kissing your feet every step of the way. And now, you’ve got your chance to finally say it, and say it loud.”

“And what’s that?”

“The thing you’ve been just itching to tell me all this time, so that you can hold up my head to show everyone on this ship just what a fine son of a @#%$ you are. A head on a pike always earns the respect of the unwashed masses, eh? Worked for Luke Skywalker. Why wouldn’t it work for some washed-up Commodore from upper-class Munilist sent to live out the rest of his service in the ass-end of the galaxy?”

Shyle was rapidly losing his composure. “I’ll have you court marshaled, Gevel. This is insubordination.”

“Last I checked, Imperial Command didn’t take kindly to the kind of sadist games you play, Shyle. How would Vice-Admiral Vikar react upon learning about your fun with electric shocks? Or how you purposely downplay the abilities of your inferiors during demonstrations to make sure you look like the Emperor reborn and they aren’t promoted?”

Commodore Shyle finally slammed the file shut with a resounding bang, staring furiously at Line Captain Theren Gevel. “That is entire enough, Line Captain Gevel!” He shouted. He took another steadying breath. “We’ve been given our assignment. We’re to resecure Dantooine. After that, you’re dismissed of duties. We’re dropping you off at Coruscant.”

“Wonderful.”

Shyle continued to shake his head, as Theren stood and walked towards the door. “Gevel.” He said. “I've never seen anyone so insubordinate. What the hell were you before you were an officer?”

Theren snorted, smirking. “Just a history teacher.”

“Just what I always wanted to do,” Theren muttered, looking up from his book to Commodore Shyle’s aide-de-camp, Dayvid Tornel. The son of a rich Muunilinstian bureaucrat, it was fairly obvious just why Tornel held the position he did – and it wasn’t because of his remarkable talents. Tornel was a painfully average officer.

Tornel just fixed him with a rather severe look. “The Commodore would return you to command of your own vessel, but your impending relief of duty prohibits this under Imperial code of conduct. But he wouldn’t want to waist your abilities, Line Captain.” Tornel uttered the last bit with a shred of honesty. Either he was hapless to the relationship between Theren and Shyle, or he honestly didn’t care.

Theren got up anyway. “Playing coffee fetcher for Shyle. That’s great.” The two left the temporary quarters, Tornel not responding, and began the walk towards the bridge of the Tenacity, the lead vessel of the small, rag-tag Solemnity fleet group. They’d taken quite a pounding from the forces of Tilaric Brel at Bastion; under ten vessels remained in the group, heavy casualties taken in all. Theren had been one of the few commanders to get his vessel out of the battle with only moderate damage; most hadn’t been so lucky.

“Why do you do that?” Tornel asked, looking sideways at him.

“Do what?” Theren asked, eyes straight ahead.

“Vilify the commodore. Disrespect him.” Tornel shook his head. “You’ve got a lot of talent, a lot of skill. Some of those maneuvers you pulled off at Bastion had admirals asking who you were. You know what the response was?”

“I can guess. ‘Nobody’. ‘A malcontent.’”

“Pretty much.” Tornel agreed. “So, why do you do it? At the very least, you could be a Commodore. Maybe a Rear-Admiral.”

They’d reached the bridge. Theren finally turned to Tornel, smirking. “It just feels wrong to mince my words.” Tornel didn’t understand; Shyle would never abide anyone under him being promoted without receiving similar treatment.

The two walked in, Theren saluting Shyle with a stone cold glare of contempt. Shyle had nothing but a smile on his face as he saluted the Line Captain. “Commodore.” Theren greeted him.

“Line Captain.” Shyle turned away, facing the viewport of the Dreadnaught-Class vessel. Below them, turning slowly in the emptiness of space, was the olive-brown world of Dantooine. Lifeless, obscure, out of the way. That was the essence of the world, a planet largely brought to Imperial attention by the rebel base that existed there at one point. “We’re approaching Dantooine, now, Mr. Gevel. We’ve launched a small probe into the planet’s atmosphere; it should be approaching the surface now.”

Suddenly, an alarm sounded at one of the stations positioned about the perimeter of the bridge, red light blaring atop it. “Would that be it, there, Commodore?” Theren asked, feigning concern. The signal denoted the destruction or loss of the probe.

“That’s odd,” Shyle said, approaching the console as the cadet manning it looked back at him. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure, sir. We detected some sort of movement on the planet’s surface, and a second later, the probe was destroyed.” The cadet frowned. “No warning. It happened far too quickly to be done by some sort of living being.”

“Odd, indeed.”

Theren spoke up. “By any chance, did you send it down towards the location of the last known Imperial base on the world?”

“Well… yes.”

The Line Captain nodded. “Then you should have known that the agent unleashed on the world was purely biological. There is no reason to assume that the automated defenses of the world wouldn’t still be active, despite the infestation of Vader’s bacteria.” Theren looked out the viewport. “That’s half a million credits, Commodore. Those automated probes don’t come cheap.

Shyle glowered, closing the distance between the two, putting his face close to Theren’s. “Shut up, Gevel.” He said. “One more week. Then you’re off this ship. Don’t make me make this a miserable experience for you.”

Theren said nothing. He just looked straight at the console’s holoprojection. Why was Shyle so interested in the old Imperial bases? They would have to be destroyed, anyway.



Theren smiled at her. “There he is… I’ll get the door.” He did so, walking from the room, and returning a minute later with a decorated officer. He bowed his head in recognition of her.

“Hello, m’lady.” He said. Addressing both of them, he continued, “I’m First Lieutenant Sterlin Kelei. I’ll be taking you, Mr. Gevel, to Imperial academy. A very special exception has been made for you, Mr. Gevel; you should be grateful.”

“I am.” Theren said, nodding. “Very much so, sir.”

“Good.” He nodded towards their home. “You’ve a good home, here, Gevel. Clearly, you’ve a fine woman here; a woman’s place is in the home, and not all of them know that. I’m glad that you’ve got yourself a proper wife.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll meet you in the speeder in a moment, Gevel. Say your last goodbyes.” He saluted him… and Theren saluted back. Kelei left the room.

She glowered at Theren, fuming with anger. “Good job, there, Sergeant Gevel. You’ll make a fine Imperial officer.”

Theren stared at his feet.

Theren sat idly in the mess hall of the Tenacity, a small book in hand. He scribbled rapidly in it, as he tended to do every day; not necessarily as a way of ordering his thoughts, but of generating ideas for proper writing. In front of him, a tray plunked down on the table, and a person sat down behind it. Theren didn’t look up, but continued to write, either oblivious or uncaring.

“You awake, Gevel?” Tornel asked waving a hand between him and the small journal.

Theren took a moment before responding. He finished his sentence, shut the little book, and looked up. “I’m awake. But your buddy up there is asleep at the wheel. A @#%$ narcoleptic.”

Tornel sighed briefly, staring at Theren. “You walked off the bridge. Commodore Shyle was looking for you.” He began picking at the half-cooked meal in front of him as he awaited a response.

“No shit? I couldn’t tell from all the blaring loudspeaker announcements.” Theren snorted. “If he needs a lap dog, he’s already got most of the crew on this ship. I don’t know what use he could possibly have for me.”

Tornal chuckled slightly, raising an eyebrow. “Actually, he needed someone to head an away team to the surface. They’re down there, right now, tracing along the coast for a location for a small, temporary base of operations. Somewhere to begin the cleaning operation from.”

Theren’s eyes widened slightly, suddenly attentive. “Along the coast?”

“Yes.”

Theren stood up. “You don’t understand what you’ve done. Neither does Shyle –” He didn’t finish his sentence. Pocketing the journal, he rushed out of the mess hall, the vest on his Imperial uniform still undone. Within five minutes, he stormed into the bridge.

“Mr. Gevel.” Shyle greeted him, saluting nonchalantly. “I thought you’d dropped off the face of the galaxy. You know, I was looking for you – hoping that you’d be able to carry out an assignment for me. Alas.”

“Yeah, alas. Tell me, what have you heard lately from your away team?” Theren didn’t salute – he just couldn’t be bothered. The pomp and ceremony which kept the distance between Imperial proceedings and the reality behind them had quickly decayed, and with them, the only barrier keeping the thin line of civility intact was gone.

Shyle furrowed his brows, if only slightly. “Communications, check in with Commander Veck’s team.”

After a moment of beeping and outbound requests for response, the communications officer turned around. “There’s… no response, sir. And we can’t detect their life signs. It would seem that they’re gone.”

Theren turned to Shyle. “You idiot.” He pointed out the viewport, at the brownish planet hanging suspended before their vessel. “Dantooine has nomadic tribes that roam the coastlines! Their corpses would still be there, dead from the Wrath virus. And you sent a team of men right into the midst of them. They’re dead, Shyle – all dead. And you can never recover any of their bodies. That’s a pretty nice present to their families.”

Shyle was enraged. “Silence!” He motioned towards the guards which lined the bridge’s doorway, and they stepped immediately into action. “I have had entirely enough of your insubordination, Mr. Gevel! I am terminating your service to the Empire here and now, pending a court marshall. Guards, take him away!”

The two stormtroopers grabbed a hold of Theren, pulling him back with little effort from the commodore. But he struggled, fighting back. “You can discharge me, Shyle, but sooner or later, this will all catch up to you. Either your arrogance or your stupidity – one day, they’ll catch up to you.”

And with that, he was pulled from the bridge, and taken to the brig.

Theren sat, listlessly reading through his small journal. This was one of the first times in quite a long while that he’d gotten to actually sit down and read the thing. Generally, he wrote into it whatever came to mind first, so when he finally decided to read it, what he found was anything from brilliant poetry to “I am your fuzzy bear” repeated over and over throughout the space of seven pages. In this case, it was neither.

sending probes into the lion’s maw
because you think the lion’s dead
and all you find is a trap made out of the lion’s bones
send me back home
you’ll still find me here
I am your honesty
I am hunting for your soul
I am not holonet friendly espionage
cloak over my dagger
until my dagger cuts the cloak
what is this lie if not a joke

Cloak over my dagger. One way of stating the tendency of people to cover up the harsh past until it bites them in the ass; like a cloak, the cover of history never actually changes the dagger. With nothing to occupy his mind in the empty cell of the brig, Theren sat back and let his mind drift away.


“We cannot afford ourselves the luxury of forgetting history. History never changes; the past is not fluid, it’s stone. So we can forget about it, and close our eyes and wish it had never happened, but eventually, it will come back to haunt us.” Theren threw the textbook in his hand into the trashcan. “This textbook is not history. I’ll give Imperial Command credit; their creative writing skills are unmatched. That doesn’t change the fact that everything contained in it is bullshit. We won’t be using it.”

One student raised her hand. “But, we are living in the Empire.” She said uncertainly. “Why shouldn’t we learn Imperial history? Even if it’s history the way the Empire tells it, what do we really need to know except that?”

“Because history doesn’t die.” Theren replied. “History can’t be glossed over with a lot of banner-waving. Everything, even the most furtive of deals in the most clandestine of places, will return to effect our reality.”

“Isn’t that disloyal to the Empire?”

“I think it’s disloyal to the Empire to falsify the truth. I think that it’s disloyal to teach her sons and daughters a bunch of lies that some speechwriter on Bastion pulled out of his ass. I won’t lie to you. Darth Vader killed the Emperor, not Luke Skywalker. It was an Imperial ship that crashed into the Death Star over Endor. These are all things you have been told; I know that you believe him in your heart of hearts. I won’t shelter you from the truth. That doesn’t mean I oppose the Empire; I work for an Imperial college, pay Imperial taxes. I want to better prepare the people who will lead the Empire tomorrow.”

Another student raised his hand. This one had stylish clothing that marked him as a member of Imperial bureaucracy, and the conceited look to match. “I’ll learn whatever brand of history I want. And I choose the Imperial brand of history.”

“You choose ignorance.”

“I choose the truth as my father taught it to me, and I won’t have some irreverent, middle-class intellectual from backwater Coruscant fucking with my head.” The boy stood up, finally giving Theren a good look at his face; it was Tulorus Vesh, son of an Imperial Moff. “I won’t associate myself with you.” He looked around. “Come on, all of you. Don’t be drawn into the words of this riff-raff.”

No one said a word. “Get the fuck out of me class, Vesh.” Theren glowered. “And tell your father I said hello.”



Theren had eventually lost his job at that college, forced to teach at another. Mehki Vesh had bought the souls of the board of directors and had him quickly ousted. He smiled in remembrance of it. Thirteen students from his history classes as that college had actually left and transferred to his new place of employment.

It occurred to him now just how unwelcome his own brand of loyalty was in an Empire dominated by pure greed and soulless ambition. Throughout his life, there’d been countless instances which should have indicated such to him; yet he’d never been deterred, never allowed the will of others to effect his own beliefs. But now, the message was clear: This is not the place for you. Mindless minions only. He sighed. At least the discharge had saved him from having to file a resignation.

There was a buzz at the durasteel door of the cell. A tinny voice rasped in, “Someone here to see you, Gevel. A friend.” The door opened, and a stormtrooper picked him up effortlessly. He was dragged out, through the hall, and to one of the meeting points within the brig; two booths separated by a glass wall. Just like in every shitty prison drama he’d ever seen, Theren thought.

He sat down as directed and, to his surprise, found Tornel staring back at him. “Hey.” The aide said, his voice coming through the glass via a small speaker/mic combination.

“Hey.” Theren said. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Tornel.”

“I’ll bet. I saw what happened on the bridge.”

“Here to tell me how right you were about disrespecting that mother fucker of a commodore?”

“No.” Tornel shook his head. “I was just wondering how you knew about the nomadic tribes bit, and Shyle didn’t.”

“I was a history professor, Tornel. Dantooine became a pretty important planet after Leia Organa duped Tarkin into going there.” Theren shrugged. “Actually, it’s pretty basic knowledge. I’m not entirely convinced that Shyle didn’t know it.”

To Theren’s surprise, Tornel nodded in agreement. “Neither am I. He just sent another inspection team down, in spite of what just happened.”

Theren sat silently for a moment. “You think Shyle is doing this on purpose?”

“It certainly would seem that way. And I don’t know what to do. That’s why I’m here.”

“Well, first of all, I want every scrap of information you can find me on Dantooine’s history. I need to know more. Get me the reports that anyone filed within the last week of activity on the planet, as well as the preliminary scouting teams that were here two weeks ago.” Tornel nodded. “And then I want every report in existence on the officers he’s sent down last time and this time.”

“Why?”

“Because the other possibility is that he’s doing this on purpose. He’s trying to kill off his enemies. And if so, we need to know why.”

Two hours later, Theren and Tornel sat at the same meeting booth, speaking in hushed tones. In front of Theren, pushed up to the glass so that he could read it, was the information he’d requested about the officers; a holopad, thoroughly inspected by stormtroopers, had been allowed through, and the Imperial officer flipped through the pages contained on it, also. “It says here that Veck was the son of a Tatooine farmer.” Theren said. “A poor boy. Must have had a lot of ability to make it in the Empire. And this other leader, the new one that Shyle sent down. The son of a Corellian. Not exactly one hundred percent Imperial stock.”

“You think Shyle is doing some sort of… cleansing, based on socio-economic status?” Tornel asked.

“That certainly would explain his haste to dispose of me. But, no, I don’t. Look, one of Veck’s men was the son of a very wealthy Muunilinstian. So that can’t be it, or else Shyle is killing off his own.”

Tornel nodded, thinking. “Shyle didn’t like Veck very much. I didn’t know the others, but those two butted heads a lot. You probably would’ve liked Veck. Real son of a bitch, like you.”

“Thanks.” Theren said, looking at Veck’s profile sheet one more time. He scanned down the description again; the man had been marked for promotion, but then suddenly informed that he wouldn’t be. “Look at that. He was on his way up, but someone stopped him. What’s that say to you?”

“That he’s got some sort of problem, personality-wise. Command didn’t like him personally, even though he had the goods professionally.” Tornel nodded. “Like someone else I know.”

“Right. And Shyle wanted to send me down, too, remember. There’s no way he didn’t know about those nomadic tribes – there’s just no way. That would be included in every briefing – after the ruse that got the Empire to Dantooine, and after it came under Imperial jurisdiction more recently, everyone knew about it.”

“Yeah.” Tornel said. He paused, staring at the reports. “So, what do you want to do?”

“What can we do? Take over this ship? Kill Shyle?” Theren shook his head. “Even if we managed to do it, we have no proof. We’d be killed be someone on the ship, and Shyle set free. And if we kill him, we might’ve killed an innocent man. If not, we’d be court marshaled and executed. There’s just no way.” Theren looked at Tornel as if to say, ‘Right?’

Tornel nodded slowly. “Then that’s it.”

“I guess so.”

He sighed. “Alright. But I just don’t know what’s going on, here. I’m afraid that when I do, it’ll be too late to stop it.” He started to stand, and sat down again. “Fuck, Gevel. How can this be happening? I’ve dedicated six years of my life to this guy. I’ve been nothing but loyal to the son of a bitch, and now he’s two-timing his subordinates, one way or another. Damnit.”

“I’m sorry, Tornel.” Theren stared down at the table.

Tornel nodded. “It’s alright. It’s no one’s fault. I’ll come to see you again, Gevel, before we hit Coruscant. I’ll probably have some free time when we stop off at the Cauldron Nebula.”

“Yeah.”

Tornel stood up.

And then Theren looked up. “Why the Cauldron Nebula?”

“I don’t know. Commodore Shyle said it was for personal reasons. If he’s pulling something, I doubt we’ll go there, but I think Shyle used it as an excuse to buy some extra time from high command.”

“The Cauldron Nebula doesn’t exist, Tornel. It’s been destroyed for years. Every star in it went supernova.”

Tornel stopped dead. “What?”

“He never said that? It’s gone. Why the fuck would Shyle want to go there – or why would he want to make up a story about going there?” Something didn’t ring true.

“I don’t know, Gevel.”

A moment more of silence. And then, it donned on Theren. “Shit. Of course, that’s what it is, of course.” He stood up. “You’ve got to get me out of here. Now. We don’t have much time. Shyle is definitely screwing around, here.”

“How do you know that?”

Theren told him. Ten minutes later, he was out.



With every star in the Cauldron Nebula had gone Eol Sha, a small, backwater, volcanic world with a twin moon, whose orbit had been undergoing rapid decay. Fearing that the moons’ impact with the world would wipe out the meager population of the harsh world, fifty colonists had been relocated from Eol Sha to Dantooine.

And then, Admiral Daala’s AT-AT walkers had swooped down upon them, utterly wiping out every last one of them. In conjunction with Eol Sha’s destruction by the thousands of supernovas occurring in the Cauldron Nebula, that had accounted for the extinction of the vast majority of the residents of that world. It had been one of those stories that Theren had had to dig for; when he’d first inquired into the destruction of the Eol Shan colony on Dantooine, he’d been told to keep his questions to himself. But he’d found out the truth.

How Shyle was tied into this, Theren didn’t know. Perhaps he was a child of one of the colonists, or was of Eol Shan descent. Or maybe he was just part of some civil rights group acting in the posthumous defense of Eol Sha’s near-extinct people. He couldn’t be sure.

Tornel and Theren, having acquired shuttle passage to Theren’s old command, the Zenith. The two paced its halls quietly, bearing the appearance of two men who were fully entitled to be there. Theren punched the passcode into a small console on one of the walls, opening the door to one of the many technician’s alcoves throughout the Dreadnaught cruiser. Inside the dimly lit room, an overweight man sat at a holoterminal, asleep. Theren smacked him on the back of the head.

“Wha – who? Theren – Captain Gevel? I thought Shyle had you thrown in the brig!”

“Well, you heard right, Tarrey.”

“Then what the hell are you doing here?” He started to reach for his commlink. “I’m sorry, Theren, but I can’t let a prisoner run loose all over this ship.”

“Don’t do that, Tarrey.”

“Why not?” The man asked, shaking slightly. “What the fuck is going on here, anyway? Give me a reason I shouldn’t turn you in.”

“I’ll give you twenty four.” With that, Theren took the stack of papers and datapads from Tornel, and threw down the hard-copy pictures of all of the men who’d died down on Dantooine. “They’re all dead. All of them. Because of Shyle.”

“What the hell?” Tarrey flipped through the pages. “What the fuck is going on here?”

“I’ll tell you. Just, please, help me. I need a full medical history of Commodore Shyle. You’re the only slicer good enough to get it.”

“Why not a profile sheet?” Tornel asked.

“Because I guarantee you, what we’re looking for won’t be on there. He would’ve had it stricken from the record.”

Tarrey looked on, bewildered. “What the –”

“Just do it, Tarrey.” Theren said, glaring at him. “Look, I know the Empire keeps logs, and I know what happens if you get caught slicing into Shyle’s files. I know we don’t have proof for you. But you have to trust me: you just have to trust me. Trust that the lives of the men you’re going to be saving are more important than the risk of your career.”

Tarrey hesitated. “Alright.” He said. The slicing only took moments, and, with the report in front of them, their suspicions were verified; the medical report had listed his ancestry (which was important for understanding possible allergies to medical agents), and Eol Sha was listed.

Over the loudspeakers, a warning blared. “All hands, to battle stations. All hands, to battle stations.”

Tornel looked at Theren, eyes wide. “The Imperial taskforce. They were inbound to check in on the decontamination and reclamation process, today. Just a few ships.” He gulped. “I think we know what Shyle’s going to do.”

“I can sure as hell guess,” Theren said.



The two, Theren and Tornel, stormed onto the bridge. The Zenith had turned about to face the inbound Imperial craft. Theren looked wildly about the bridge, each officer attentive to his task, ready to obey forthcoming combat orders, reading weapons. They were moving rapidly towards the ships – two Imperial Star Destroyers – and bringing themselves to bear into a combat formation with the other Solemnity vessels.

“Stop!” Theren cried. “Stop moving now. Those are Imperial ships that you’re moving to attack!” A few officers turned to him, the rest continuing their tasks. The bridge commander, Biven Teem, turned to face him coldly.

“Mr. Gevel. You are supposed to be in the brig onboard the Tenacity – and Officer Tornel. Ah. I… see.” His eyes narrowed. “Guards?”

“No, wait! What the fuck are you doing, Biven? Why are you attacking those ships? Check the transponder frequencies; they’ll read Imperial. Stand down your weapons now.”

“I don’t take orders from decommissioned officers, Gevel. The Commodore has given us our orders. Get off of my bridge, now.”

Theren turned to Tornel, a cold feeling in his gut. The other officers onboard the vessel all went about their tasks, ignoring Theren’s pleas. The scene was absolutely chilling; like something out of a bad science fiction holodrama. No one onboard the vessel cared to recognize their kin; they were intent on following orders. “Well, I guess we know what Shyle was up to, all this time, and down there. He was crafting himself a cadre of perfect minions; mindless drones with no souls.” He smirked mirthlessly. “Congratulations, Teem. You’re a fucking hero. A real fucking hero.” No one said anything to break the stunned silence, so Theren continued. “Don’t you see what he’s done? He’s molded you into the perfect group of officers – willing to obey any command, no matter how corrupt, no matter how evil. You’ll do whatever he tells you. He says jump, you ask how high. And the ones he couldn’t turn, he sent right into the midst of Wrath-infected corpses down on Dantooine or threw into the brig.”

Theren knew he was taking a risk; he could already sense the stormtroopers who guarded the door training their rifles on him. But he didn’t care. The stunned silence spoke for itself: he was penetrating the brainwashing Shyle had worked hard to institute. “Teem, think for yourself. You don’t have to obey him. You know this is wrong, god damnit. Think, for fuck sake!”

Teem took a deep breath. “Even… even if we disobey him, there’s nothing we can do. We’ll be wiped out.”

“Maybe.” He took a step forward, and put his hand on Teem’s shoulder. “But you have to believe that what you’re doing is right. Let me take command.”

Teem hesitated, and nodded.

“Communications officer,” Theren said, switching into command mode instantly. “Broadcast a low-frequency, tight-beam transmission to the left of those two vessels. Inform them of the situation; inform them that we have it under control. Order them to leave immediately.” He turned about. “Engineering, speed us up. Put us in front of Shyle’s vessel, so that our ion trail obscures his ability to read our transmission.

“Yes, sir.” They chimed in.

“Inform me when we are sufficiently ahead of Shyle’s craft.”

A moment’s silence. Everyone on the bridge was tense in anticipation. At any time, their cover could be blown, the ruse revealed, and their fate sealed. “Now, sir.” The engineering officer said.

“Good. Wait for it…”

“Sir?” The communications officer said. “Shyle is sending us a communiqué, asking us why we’re speeding ahead.”

Theren nodded. “Good. Inform them that we have a slight engine malfunction, and triangulate the exact origin of the signal. The power generators on that Dreadnaught should be directly below the transmitter.”

“Done, sir.”

“Route the co-ordinates to weapons. Weapons command, target transmitter location with all ion cannons. We’ll rely on our ion trail and our report of damage to keep them from getting suspicious about the weapons activity.”

In front of them, the two Imperial Star Destroyers shuddered, and had begun to peel away. Feeling quickly, in just moments, they’d jumped to hyperspace. Suddenly, Commodore Shyle’s voice was blaring across the bridge, a forced communication. “What the hell just happened?” He exclaimed. “Those vessels were told we were moving for supplies. Which vessel activated weapons too soon!?”

Theren motioned calmly to the communications officer for his headset, which he promptly handed to him. “You thought you had it all planned out, didn’t you, Commodore?”

“Who the hell – Gevel!?”

“The revenge for the Eol Sha refugees, the retribution on the Empire. You just couldn’t return to Dantooine without getting yours. It was poetic irony. It was perfect. Your perfect cadre of officers, loyal to the death, willing to do anything for you. All this time spent in preparation. The murder of Veck’s squad, and the others. You had eliminated everyone who would oppose you, turned Solemnity into your gun pointed at the head of a floundering Empire. You had covered up your history perfectly. No one knew.” You couldn't hide history. You couldn't cover it up. Even after all those years, after all that secrecy, the actions of one Admiral Daala had returned to haunt the Empire at last.

Shyle went for broke, his guise brought down, angry enough for honesty. “You bastard. You don’t know what you’ve done! Those vessels will inform the Empire – they’ll send more! They’ll investigate… my people! Gevel, I waited five years for this, five years for revenge for what that fucker Daala did to my people. I’ll get you for this. It isn’t over. It’s only just begun. You’re going to die, Gevel, and so is everyone on that traitor ship of yours.”

“I don’t think so.” Theren said. “Weapons, fire away.”

And with that, Commodore Shyle’s vessel was blasted by the Zenith’s ion cannons, its power stripped away, the ship left to float listlessly in space. And the battle began.



“And from there,” Vice-Admiral Vikar said, looking up from the file, “You proceeded to systematically disable six other craft, killing only seven total crewmen. The rest surrendered.” The graying, personable man looked down at the report again, then back at Theren. They both knew Vikar had been over the file a million times.

“Yeah, that’s about right.” Theren shrugged. “You’ll notice the transcripts from Shyle’s personal files, there. He’d had this planned for a long time.”

“Yes, indeed.” Vikar said. He smiled slightly, wisely. “Well, Mr. Gevel, you certainly did well at Dantooine. Obviously, your expulsion from the Empire has been rescinded; you will be promoted.” He paused. “I do, however, have a question.”

“Go ahead.”

“Why did you question Commodore Shyle so often? Obviously, your suspicions were well-founded, in this case. But what in god’s name caused you to be so defiant of him?”

Theren started to say ‘It just felt wrong to mince my words’, but stopped. He thought back, back on Coruscant. To the meeting with Sergeant Kelei. To her.

Her name was Alara. “Well, sir,” He began. And he told Vikar the whole story.