Undisclosed Location
Before interrogation interviews start
“They are called Azguardians, Moff Zell.”
“I know what the @#%$ they are called. Please tell me we know something more about them than their @#%$ name?”
“Oh, of course, sir! Of course, we know much more.”
The panel of scientists and xenobiologists walked on either side of the retired Moff as he made his way down into the depths of the facility.
They entered a room where various people were pulling back skin and muscle tissue from dead aliens.
“Look over here, Moff Zell!” the head of the Xenobiology Department said, pointing to the remains of an Azguardian lying on a white operating table.
There were several autopsies being performed on the surrounding tables, the operators ignoring the Moff and his entourage.
The head of the Xeno Department removed an already cut skull fragment off the alien and Zell stared dispassionately inside.
“Their brains are arranged in a very peculiar manner.”
“How did this little @#%$ die?” Zell asked.
“Killed himself.”
Zell turned his head away from the alien remains to give the Head of the Xeno Department his full attention. “Explain.”
“It seems, from the security footage we’ve taken from Kamino sources on the Reef City, it seems that individuals such as this poor bloke served not only as noncommissioned civilians, but also doubled as warriors.”
Zell’s eyebrow rose slightly.
“It’s true! Apparently there is some chemical reaction in their brains that allows for these ‘split personality’ changes to occur. So we have civil engineer joe here.. but come some battle or fight they ‘change’ into a ‘battle mode’ if you will.”
Moff Zell’s eyes were scanning the bodies on the tables surrounding them. “This is for the entire race or just a localized mutation?”
“It appears to be the way this particular race evolved.”
A small smile formed on Zell’s lips, as the problems inherent with this evolutionary process came to mind.
“So engineer joe would have no idea what soldier joe would know or vice versa?”
“That is correct, Moff. Our typical interrogation methods do not apply. If soldier joe were given design specifications for a galaxy gun, we could not persuade, no matter what methods we applied, engineer joe to divulge the specifications.”
“Unless it WAS engineer joe who built the bloody thing.”
“Exactly! And now you come up with the fallacies of that particular evolutionary devlopement. One personality does not know what the other personality is doing. Their soldier personality is very fanatical to the point of extreme self destruction if captured.”
“But you have these.. bodies?”
“The self destruction is mental, Moff.”
“But we have prisoners..”
“Not at first. There were hundreds that off’ed themselves before we figured out what was happening. Imperial Intelligence began leaking information to the captives that the Empire was expecting the Mon Calamari to respond to the Kamino conquest instilling in them the hope that they would be rescued.”
“Why kill yourself if you are going to be rescued? You might still be able to stick it to the bad ol’ Empire eh?” Moff smiled grimly.
“Something like that. It gave us the time to stun the rest of the prisoners and keep them under until we could figure out an appropriate method of interrogation.”
“And?”
“Well, the with the hundreds that killed themselves, they gave us the necessary material to experiment with!”
Zell nearly grinned at the excitement the scientist showed at the opportunity of studying a strange and new alien species. “How accommodating of them.” He murmured dryly.
“Quite right!” the scientist excitedly continued. “We have their anatomy down their DNA figured out.”
“So you began to hypothesize and bring each prisoner out of their coma to test the theory?”
“Yes, indeed. And what we found is most interesting! Take a look here at these charts.”
“What do they show?”
“Brain development.”
“This is the soldier personality and this is the civilian?” Zell asked holding two reports.
“That is correct, sir.”
“This alien soldier is stupid.” Holding up the report with almost no development.
“In a sense, yes, sir.”
“Explain.”
“Let me see if I can do this…hmm… Well, Sir, like any living being, for abilities and intelligence to increase, the being needs.. time. Their brains assimilate, learn and grow.”
The scientist gestured to the alien on the table. “But with two separate, developing personalities, that time is split.”
Zell narrowed his eyes as he began to understand. “So while we have a soldier with 2 years experience..”
“They have a soldier, at the same age, with 1 year experience.”
“Because the other year is developing their civilian lifestyle.”
“Exactly! While you sir can be both soldier and civilian at the same time, these Azguardians ‘switch’ back and forth at will!
“So if you take their civilian to a planet by transport and he switches into soldier mode..”
“The soldier will not know where he is or how he got there.”
“But he will know how to fight..”
“If that is what he was trained for.” The scientist shrugged. “I suppose the social structure of these aliens is quite unique. Perhaps during their schooling they also switch to soldier mode and indoctrinated with combat training or specialized military training.”
“Such as..”
“Well, operation a starship.. navigation duties, weapons, computers.. things like that.”
“So their civilians have combat training?”
“The basics…yes. I mean there is nothing specialized about their training.. I mean why waste specialized schooling on individuals who’ll never see combat? But, because they have evolved their minds to two personalities, then they have to develop their combat personality at least somewhat.”
Zell was not very interested.
“So if their combat personalities were not developed, they would be.. blank?”
The scientist smiled. “If you keep a baby in the dark and do not speak to it or train it in any way, but keep it’s body alive, will it be of any use?”
“I see your point.”
“So most civilians.. or Azguardians who have chosen to live as civilians, while they have this ‘combat’ personality, it’s only very basic training.”
“They become drones for the direction of an Azguardian with a more developed combat personality?”
“Exactly, Sir! There are those Azguardians who prefer military duties so their civilian personalities are underdeveloped.”
Zell barked out a laugh. “So their soldiers can only reproduce if they rape one of their own because they are socially challenged?”
“They aren’t made for propagation. They are trained to fight, or serve in some other specialized military function.”
“The fishhead @#%$ were smart to exploit these stupid aliens.”
Zell peered into the chest cavity of another autopsy victim. “But what does this do for interrogation?”
“Well, Moff, one of their basic training for their combat personality is to kill themselves if in a no-win situation. A very basic command like the proper way to button up your combat uniform.”
“So, if the civilians feel all is lost, they kill themselves?”
“No. If the civilians are captured and feel all is lost, they know they have to switch to their combat personality. They do that and the personality takes an assessment and then, if it’s no-win, attempts to kill itself.
Because these aliens can control at will their switching back and forth, it gives us hope. You see, then the function becomes something like a conscious use of muscle.”
“A muscle we can stimulate or deaden externally!” the conclusion was firm to Zell.
“That is correct.”
“So when you wake the sons of @#%$ up, you have their muscle deadened already, so they can’t switch into combat mode to kill themselves.”
“Again correct, Moff.”
“But do their civilians know anything?”
“Sir, when the other’s killed themselves, our scans reveals this area of their brains active.” The doctor doing the autopsy commented between incisions. “When we woke them, most of them showed this area of their brains active. We measure each part to see how developed they are. This gives us an idea of how much time a particular Azguardian has spent as a soldier or civilian.”
“The civilians will know more than you might think.”
Zell snorted at that. “And interrogating their soldier?”
“Harder to do, but possible..but only in some circumstances. What is nice as that even though these aliens hold two personalities, both personalities use the same body. So if the civilian is deprived of sleep for three days, and we stimulate the muscle to turn them into soldier mode, the tired effects of their body are still felt.”
Moff Zell picked up a report and flipped through it until coming to one with a highly developed civilian personality. “I want to talk to this one. And I want another live one put into the cell so he can see me kill it.”
“Why?” the scientist frowned.
Zell grinned. “You’ve made great strides in understanding their anatomy doctor. But doesn’t an alien race who puts it into the minds of their combat personalities to kill themselves if caught or a no-win presents itself show itself to have a particularly psyche that we can use?”
“Such as?”
“The fact that these @#%$ would rather kill themselves than live with the possibility of failure. Imagine the psychological impact of being faced with a situation where you have to face the consequences of your actions? Imagine that there is no easy way out like death and they have stare into the face of accountability?”
Zell began to laugh harshly. “These @#%$ aliens are cowards! They are all set to kill themselves and that can be used to our advantage. They are about to face their accountability to the Empire. Copy what you’ve learned, encrypt the data and deliver to the Grand Marshall Kaine. This data is also going to Commodore Gevel?”
The scientist nodded.
“Excellent. Now show me the little shitface.”
*
Elsewhere – location undisclosed
“What is my name?” The light was harsh, the question a drone in the mind of a very dehydrated body.
“I…. I don’t know…” came the parched response from cracked and bleeding lips.
“Do we need another lesson?” the voice was firm, unyielding.
“N..no.” the alien’s eyes widened in desperation.
A hand lashed out, striking the creature tied down.
“Your stink is offensive to me! Your cowardly acts contemptible!
You do not deserve to live.” The harsh voice spat out.
“P…please… I .. “
“You can end this, you know? You can end this right now..”
“P..please..” the alien shuddered, hunger and thirst burning their desire within.
The voice changed as a weapon was aimed straight at the alien. The voice was soft, pleading in it’s own way.
“End this, please..” it said, strong yet hopeful.
“I…. I …” one eye was bleeding, the good eye staring down the barrel of the weapon, his expression totally helpless.
“Why did you live with the Calamarians?”
“I don’t know…”: the reply, was the same. “I am just an engineer… I fix things..”
The weapon hit against the victim’s cheek.
“What secrets do you possess?!”
“I.. have…..no… secrets..” It was becoming harder to talk.
The weapon’s energy charge was building.
“WHY DID YOU COMMIT MURDER!!??” the voice was unforgiving.
“I… no… murder… no..” the voice was weakening as the tied creature found sitting up becoming too difficult.
The voice murmured something and a strong voice came in over some speakers.
The voice was that of Jan Dondana.
“Do you think anyone gives a @#%$ about you?” the voice asked, quietly incredulous.
Desperation, depression, helplessness… all these emotions played across in various shades as the voice studied the complete shattering of the other’s reality.
“One more time: Why did you murder?” the voice asked.
“I…. I DON’T KNOW!!!…” wailed the creature, sheer exhaustion taking it’s toll.
The weapons charge clicked and the gun shifted from the restrained alien to another lying unconscious on the floor.
The gun discharged and the creature let out an anguished cry. The cry of futility.
The captive’s head hung and the creature wept dryly. There were no more tears.
“Let me ask you something easy.” The voice said, almost conversationally, giving the hint of granting a very large concession.
“Your pain and those of your companions will end if you can answer just one question… just one simple question.”
The alien raised his tired and beaten eyes at the interrogator. The aging man smiled congenially.
“What is my name?”
The alien stared at him in horror because for the life of him..
…he didn’t know..
*
Undisclosed Location... Several Days Ago...
"Do you really expect the Azguardian to talk?" the scientist asked as Moff Zell exited the interrogation room.
"Of course! That is the nature of interrogations!" Zell responded somewhat surprised at the naivete of the scientist.
But then again, scientists were always a bit naive.
"Everyone eventually talks!"
"But aren't there holdouts?"
Zell laughed. "Ah, the defiance of the hero... Nowadays, there is no one... no one in this galaxy that can interrogate as skillfully as the Empire. It comes from having to deal with underground rebellions .." the Moff's voice trailed off as he stepped out of the hall and into the main observation room noting several new people milling about carrying electronic datapads and recorders doubtless trying to squeeze every ounce of scientific data from the dissected bodies of the aliens as they could.
"Moff Zell! This is surely a surprise!" exclaimed one of the newcomers. Zell's eyes narrowed at the approaching woman as her name and personal information rolled across his brain.
"Dominic" the Moff said galantly taking her hand and kissing it.
The woman blushed slightly not being used to such attentions.
Another thing that scientists were naive at.
Whatever his personal opinion of the woman, however, she was on one of the preeminent scientific teams that spearheaded the Empire's setting up of Reproduction Centers.. safehouses for the alien population of the Empire to turn too if the Coalition or other pathetic enemy of the Empire turned once more to biological warfare.
"What brings you here?" she asked, pushing her antiquated eyeglasses further up the bridge of her nose. She was in her late thirties but already eccentricity was setting in.
“Alien fears…” Zell muttered irritably.
“Yours?” she asked slightly confused.
“Theirs.”
"Ahh.. their 'Declaration'?"
"You've heard?" Zell asked, slightly surprised that the woman kept up with the political happenings of the Empire.
"It's all that's been on the news." she answered absently as her interest suddenly moved to the alien creature lying down at the table nearest them. "Fascinating!" she whispered. "Truly a fascinating species."
Zell nearly barked out a laugh and quipped something about the alien having questionable parentage.
Her fingers moved to the forehead of the creature and Zell noted a fine line circling the Azguardian's entire skull. The woman's delicate fingers pushed slightly and the top portion of the alien skull came apart revealing a truly disgusting thing. Something that Zell would have sworn these aliens were missing.
A brain.
"The earlier reports were incorrect." she murmured as she picked up a very thin needle and began probing.
That caught the Moff's interest.
"How so?"
"The initial report stated that the two personalities exhibited by these creatures was entirely split, the one side not knowing what the other would be."
"But?" prodded Zell.
"That's not entirely correct. There was a rudimentary understanding as several subjects switched from their 'civilian'
personality to their 'military' one."
Zell smiled grimly. "That only adds to our purpose."
"How so?" the woman looked up curiously.
"It saves us from having to rehash everything when the bloody @#%$ switch from personality to personality."
"There is something else that would help you.."
"Yes?"
"Here... look!" she pointed and Zell peered closer to where she was probing with her needle. She applied a small amount of pressure a nerve ending and the alien on the table began to weep.
"Exerting pressure here in this region of their cortex automatically stimulates emotional responses."
Zell at first was startled to find that the alien was still alive and somehow conscious but the initial surprise died quickly.
The Moff put his hand on hers and applied more pressure and the alien began to weep more dramatically.
"Great @#%$ Jedi!" the Moff whispered. "Do you know what this means?"
The woman only smiled and Zell knew that she would exact something for her sharing.
I just might have to horn that superior attitude out of her..
He knew the next session would be very different. Lost in thought he suddenly forgot about the weeping creature on the table and plans of action began to form.
*
An “Undisclosed” location
Xill Turner was an average Azguard. He was of fit build, of strong spirit, and of unshakable faith. When they had been captured, many decided that it was not worth the risk to the homeland to continue living. They had to kill themselves least the enemy learn where they’re from and bring death to their families. Xill had thought differently. He was from the fire tribe, and as far as he was considered, he was going to have a stab at the Imperials before they were finished here.
The gods of Azguard respect courage, and of the few survivors in the prisons, he was definitely the most courageous. So, far off on Azguard, the Gods pooled their power, and sent it across the galaxy to their servant with a message. Avenge your kin.
Outside his cell, a pair of stromtroopers stood at attention, bored, tired by yet another hour at guard. There was a noise from inside the cell, so one of them turned to look inside. A dozen aliens were strapped to different tables, each connected to a drip laden with drugs to keep them asleep. No, eleven. One table was empty.
The two guards looked at each other. Keying in the code, they raised their rifles and stepped slowly into the room. It was eerily silent, as each of the faces remained perfectly still. Then, suddenly, a grey figure fell from above onto one guard. Long claws ripped through his helmet and pierced his skull with an all-mighty rip. Blood spurted from his head, and he fell dead. The other turned, pointed his rifle at the massive alien towering above, but it was too late. A clawed hand shot out and gutted him like a fish. He fell dead too.
Xill stepped slowly from his cell. The way was clear. In one hand he had a rifle, the other had his claws, blood-stained and dripping with gore, fully extended. His fangs dripped venom, and he set off to free his kin, for better or worse, for vengeance or victory. Moving from shadow to shadow, destroying security cameras and then going the other way to fool them into thinking he was going that way. Finally settling in a silent rest-room, he waited for more guards to pass by.
*
Undisclosed Location
"There, that's the last of it.." the woman at Azrael Zell's side as she drew the greenish bio fluid from the body of the Azguard lying on the table in front of them.
The woman was licking her lips in concentration as her hand held steady while removing the rather long needle.
"Hmm..." she murmured noticing strange markings on the skin. "Caste identifier's perhaps?"
She turned to the Moff and he simply shrugged, quiet in his impatience.
The syringe went into a the last of many containers housing Azguard biomaterial.
"The Imperial Sciences will be getting some of this, won't they Moff Zell?" the woman asked as she stripped off her operating gloves.
"Of course, my dear." Zell instantly replied running the quantities off in his head allocating some to the biogenetics facilities that Arliss controlled, some to xenoweapons developement, some to each protectorate to research any way their leaders felt necessary...
"There will be enough."
"What do we do with the rest of the prisoners?" a soldier asked.
"We are moving to Phase III, which requires.. well.. a better environment than this." the Moff gestured.
And then suddenly the lights dimmed.
"What the @#%$ was that?" the Moff nearly shouted in anger.
"Signal! Coming in strong!" Zell was already out the door and into the comm room.
"A communications signal?" he barked out entering briskly.
"Not sure sir! I don't think so... the computers are not able to put together any coherent mesage.." the comm officer turned and Zell took a look.
"That's not a comm signal. I don't know what the @#%$ that is. Origin?"
"Extrapolating. The power descent rate is being calculated as its strength."
"Do we know the general @#%$ direction it came from, at least?" the retired Moff asked, incredulously.
"Yes sir. There!" pointing to an unexplored area on the galactic map.
Zell's eyes narrowed and a small feral grin appeared. "Very interesting. Ask the monitors if they have noticed anything different in any of the..."
And that is when the alarm sounded, lockdown being implimented.
"Moff Zell", a Stormtrooper entered drawing Azrael's attention. "We have a situation."
"Care to elaborate?"
"A prisoner has escaped."
Zell's eyes lit up with anticipation. "Has the little @#%$ tried to strike at the scientists?"
"No sir. He seems to be heading in one direction destroying cameras."
"Can we confirm?"
"No sir."
"Get me a thermal scan of the building. That'll tell us. Seal off the rest of the lab from that entire wing and have the scientist effect a quarantine.
Statis all the prisoners."
As the trooper relayed Zell's orders and blastdoors were heard lowering, the woman came running in. "An alien woke up?"
"After we identified a signal alien in nature..."
"External control?"
"Perhaps. If so, then this does open up possibilities for controlling their entire race."
"That's my girl." Zell chuckled appreciatively.
"The entire wing is sealed, all vents closed. It's going to get mighty uncomfortable in there soon enough. Do we know if anyone has been.."
"Two troopers confirmed dead."
"So we assume the little @#%$ is armed."
The woman saw the thermal scanning systems being set up and remarked, "Perhaps you could direct the readings to another location so we can see can gauge how he reacts."
"You mean whether his little wanker will extend if we ring a bell?" Zell commented offhandedly.
The woman pursed her lips. "Crude but essentially correct. While we can measure their brain sizes we have no real gauge for the intelligence of the species."
"They are attacking the Empire. It can't be that high.." quipped Zell.
Another xenobiologist came into the room. "What about the other bodies on tables in the cell?" he asked.
"They are trapped and we cannot get to them since the wing is sealed off. The alien may try to use the bodies as food to survive."
"They already believe in killing themselves in the face of overwhelming odds, so the fact that this one is trying to escape.."
"Makes him a retarded person in their little macabre society?"
"I don't know but who knows what he'd use the bodies for.."
"Can we get a visual on the bodies strapped down?"
"Yes, the camera in the cell is active... only the cameras in the halls have been damaged."
"Playback and let's see the little @#%$. I also want the serial number to the trooper assigned to be watching the monitor." The Moff's voice shot out harshly.
They watched as the body twitched on the screen, the time index on the camera matching that of the signal. They saw the creature attack the troopers with it's claws.
"Classic territorial responses." a Xenobiologist exclaimed. Another pointed, "I don't see how you might classify this as a reptile, Doctor. It's classic .."
"Bullshit." Zell started. "Initiate viral quarantine in that room, now!"
And small openings appeared on the walls.
Flames of fire roared out and soon the room was engulfed, burning eveything.
"If that beastie is carrying a disease, we may need the Imperial Animal Control to come in and.."
"It is able to fly a ship.." the woman said incredulously.
"It is able to push buttons that happens to fly a ship," Zell corrected. He grinned, "Until we know more about them, I plan on keeping my mind open."
"Sir! We've triangulated an origin of the signal!"
Zell's smile got wider. "Now we send an encrypted databurst to Muunillist."
"What about the alien?"
"Throw in a Mon Calamari prisoner and let's see what happens."
"Which one?"
"One of the special ones.."
And a blastdoor opened as soldiers with blasters at the ready pointed down a bare hall intent on shooting anything that moved.
They pushed an emaciated Mon Calamari prisoner into the hall and closed the blastdoor sealing it.
The scientists, xenobiologists and company watched the thermal scanners with interest.
*
Xill looked at the weak prisoner. It was clear they knew he was free. A quick pattern of thought occured in his mind. Ifthey knew he was awake, why didn't they kill him? Did they want to study him? Did they want to see what he would do? Like some sort of trained beast? Well, he would give them some surprises.
He moved slowly, ever so slowly, towards the prisoner. He remained concealed. Finally he said "Xill, military engineer no 11023. Western point division."
He slowly pointed the rifle at the Mon Calamarian. "State your name and rank. Also, query 19, azguard field handbook: Prisoners, states that I must ask you the following questions: Do you understand me?"
The Mon Calamarian nodded.
"If you are diseased or wounded, or you think you may be, please move around this corridor. I intend to move this way."
Slowly, wide-eyed, the Mon Calamarian moved away. Azguards were sort of mythical in the Coalition Society. They were rarely encountered, and if they were it was only in military situations. Some even theorised they were built for war by the Mon Calamarian Command.
Once he was well away, the Azguardian moved towards the door. There were probably hidden camers or something, so he spoke:
"I am Xill, military engineer no 11023. Western point division, formerly posted at Kamino. I request official rights and privelidges as a captured military prisoner. I am a sentient being and as such deserve to be treated with respect. Perhaps you were not aware of that with my comrades, but if you are indeed the Empire then I assume it made little difference. I am unaware of why you sent the Mon Calamarian prisoner in, perhaps as bait, or to spread disease upon me, but I warn you that I am watching him, and any such adanve will be met with force. Any attempt at attack will result in me being forced to terminate as many of you as possible, which I assure you I can do easily. If you have questions pertaining to Azguards, I may be able to answer them for you..."
*
Undisclosed Location
The alien was chattering with chirps, squeaks and whistles and Azrael Zell frowned.
“What the bloody @#%$ is the little nip trying to say?! We don’t have a translation program here..?”
A technician looked mortified at the Moff’s outrage. “Not in the monitoring rooms.”
“Of course not. The bloody little nip may not have anything useful to say after all…” Zell commented sarcastically. “Nothing like working with the best and the brightest..”
The soldier reddened and motioned for several nearby technicians to go to work uploading the translating patterns from the interrogation software into the monitoring computers.
“It will take a few minutes, Sir.” The soldier offered lamely.
“Do you at least have his location?” Zell demanded mercilessly.
“Heat signature coming through now..”
“Of course. The location of an escaped alien prisoner is probably not a top notch priority for this facility.” Zell barked back bitingly and the soldier began to visibly tremble.
“Let me know when you have the information.” The old man’s voice suddenly had a soft unsettling quality to it and the Moff left the monitoring room to an adjacent room, sitting down at a rather plain gray conference table, his mind in thought. He pushed a button on the table, “Mara? You’d better get up here. I have a mission for you that you’ll be absolutely thrilled at.”
“Moff Zell, it had better be something special. The data that is being sent down here is ..is absolutely fascinating.” Came an answering voice of a woman who sounded really young.
“Just pack it up and get over here. Better bring the xeno-suit as well.”
“Really?” the young woman squealed in delight. “On my way!”
Dominic entered the room as Zell clicked off the comm..
“Even you cannot discount that the alien was talking to us. Even if we couldn’t understand what it was saying, it points to a rudimentary at the very least form of sentience.” She started without preamble, interrupting the old man’s thoughts.
“Of course the little @#%$ is sentient.” Zell grumbled, irritated at his thoughts being interrupted.
The woman exhaled sharply and sat down next to the old man. “Then why the act? Why the façade about this alien species?”
Zell frowned. “It isn’t an ‘act’, Dominic. What do we know…really know.. about this species? You’re a physiological doctor. You’ve seen the anatomy of these creatures, you’ve seen the differences. What species comes close to what we’ve seen on those tables?”
“None come to mind.” Dominic answered. “But you dismiss them as if they were…something less than they appear to be.”
Zell’s eyes narrowed. “Dominic, what we’ve seen of their physiological differences is next to astounding, wouldn’t you agree?”
When the older woman nodded, Zell looked over her shoulder at someone who had just ran several levels to get to where he was.
“Mara? Do you want to explain to the good doctor the x-factor?”
A young woman with light brown hair shook her pony-tail as she slipped on a helmet. The gray suit (which looked like some body armor) was the latest in xeno technological advancements. Going into an alien environment or coming into contact with an unknown alien quantity, the suit was a must.
Her voice spoke through the suit’s microphones as she did a check. Looking down at Moff Zell she answered, “The x-factor is their psychological make-up.”
“Exactly.” Zell commented. “What do we know about them psychologically, Dominic? What do we really know about them?”
Mara interrupted: “When we took Kamino away from the Coalition there were scores of these aliens living there. Were they an occupying army? Were they slaves of the Mon Calamari? What was their status within the Coalition hierarchy? They are one of three planets that banded together to form this “coalition” but does that make them the stronger link? The weaker?”
“When we captured them,” Zell continued, “they started committing suicide.”
“It is indicative of a lack of respect for life, especially their own.” Mara picked up.
“Tell me, Dominic? If an enemy does not respect their own life, will they respect yours?”
The older woman’s eyes moved from the young xenopyschologist to the Moff. “I see where you are going with this.”
Moff Zell asked. “Are they intelligent? Yes. Can they operate starships? Yes. Do they have at least a rudimentary culture? Yes. Are they sentient? Yes.”
Mara again interrupted, her excitement at the prospect of meeting this alien species bubbling over, “But how do we deal with them? Their anatomy gives them a schizophrenic bearing. That alone, by our standards, puts them as clinically insane or at the very least, mentally deficient.”
Zell concluded, “So we have an alien species that violently took part in or approved of the Coalition’s conquest of Kamino. These creatures have already declared war on us (for whatever reason) and have attacked enmassi. Then, they kill themselves when captured almost automatically. They are schizophrenic while all the time nourishing this hatred for the Empire. Tell me Dominic, does this sound like any enlightened species you would want to co-exist with?”
Dominic weakly responded, “But they are sentient.”
“So is a serial killer, Ma’am.” Mara chimed in. “Also, serial killers can be frightfully intelligent, cultured and well mannered.”
“Does that mean I want to live on the same block as one?” Zell asked rhetorically.
“So you need to establish..?”
“Something other than sentience. Something other than culture. Something other than intelligence.”
“Such as..?”
“The ability to reason objectively.” Mara finished. “Which, I suppose, is why I am here?”
“You were always a smart girl, Mara.”
“When do I go?”
“Let’s find out shall we..?”
Zell stood up and returned to the monitoring station. “Do you have that translation for me soldier.”
“Just came in sir.”
“Let’s see it.”
A slow smile spread across Moff Zell’s face. “So the little nip’s can be reasonable.” He turned to the suited up Mara and she winked at him through her helmet.
“It’s always better than killing yourself.” She quipped.
“Agreed.” Zell said, turning his back to her to glance at the thermal scans that showed where the alien was hiding.
“Mara, we’ll have to change our plans in light of this new information.”
“No phase three?”
“Let’s say Phase Three will be revised.”
Mara opened her mouth but Zell cut her off. “I don’t know yet. Depends on the ramifications of what you can do.”
Mara’s eyes smiled. “You don’t like losing opportunities.”
“Not if I can help it. I have no idea where this will go but if the bugger is talking then perhaps we can find out why they are bent on killing us.”
Mara’s helmet nodded and as she turned to follow a group of stormtroopers Zell placed a hand on her shoulder. “Be careful in there Mara. We don’t know how this alien will react. He may just go berserk..”
“Or laugh insanely while trying to take my heart..” Mara concluded. “I’m a xeno-specialist Moff. I know the risks.” The the girl grinned. “However, his attitude toward the Mon Calamari is very.. interesting.”
Zell smiled. “Caught that too did you.”
“You’re in my element now, Moff.”
“Shall I wish you the Emperor’s luck?” he asked.
“Good heavens why? He died.” And she was off.
Standing in front of the sealed blastdoors, two whole companies of stormtroopers leveled their weapons as the magnetic locks were uncoupled and the seal broken.
The door opened a crack and Mara slipped in, feeling the vibration of the door closing behind her and hearing the magnetic locks snapping in place.
She was a slender girl, about 5’ 6”, her gray form fitting xeno-suit, made little noise as the moved down a dark corridor. Made of a thick plastic-like material, it shined in the beam of light shining from her hand held flashlight.
So far she saw no sign of the alien or the Mon Calamari.
She clicked her comm several times to check it’s operation and once satisfied began to dictate her advance.
She noted a line of cameras shot up in the hall.
“Definitely armed.” She commented.
She herself was not armed and if the alien still retained the strength to carve up stormtroopers with it’s bare hands she really did not think that Moff Zell’s soldiers could get to her in time.
“Why do I get myself into situations like this?” she mumbled to herself, the excitement in her eyes calling her words lies.
With the aircirculators down and the ventilation shafts in lockdown in the entire wing, she noted her scanner readings without much surprise.
“Temperature is cooler. Oxygen content is normal, probably due to the lack of personnel in the area..
She needed to take another base reading just to make sure there were no bacteria floating around from the alien. Something that would be normal for them but harmful for humans.
She didn’t think so but it was always good to be sure.
“Hello?” she called out, switching her microphone to the suit’s externals.
*
Xill was on the ceiling. Hnaging from a pipe with his claws. The Mon Calamari was no where to be found and he hoped it stayed away. Mon Calamarians are not the best creatures for stealth. He began cutting specific wires imbedded in the wall, and counted under his breath. As the woman in the suit approached he swung down to a level position.
As he did so the lights went out. He watched her from the shadows, she showed little concern as the lighting lowered, merely interest. There was just enough to see by, and Xill slipped carefully behind her. For a moment he considered killing her, but that would get him nowhere.
"Halt" He cried. He leveld his blaster and took careful aim. His eyes remained effective in the dark. "I want one answer right now: What kind of sick empire dissects their dead civilian prisoners? Have you no respect? If not for the fact you were a woman I would be disposed to shoot you now."
*
Undisclosed Location
He speaks Basic!
Mara watched with eyes fascinated at the elongated claws the Azguard alien possessed. The multiversitile uses for the claws that were displayed interested the xenospecialist to no end which is why she had to catch herself as she moved closer to the alien without thinking just to inspect the natural biological defense mechanism of the creature.
The fact that the alien held an Imperial-issued blaster from a recently dead stormtrooper almost did not enter her mind at all.
Almost.
She caught herself at the last minute and drew herself back as the alien asked its question of her.
What kind of sick empire dissects …??
The question seemed rather odd to Mara for, in her opinion, the idea of dissecting dead bodies for the betterment of science and knowledge was rather obvious to her. Every civilization who's medical technology had advanced higher than that of stone knives and bearskins took part in autopsies and schools trained in dissecting cadavers.
Where does he think doctor's get their knowledge about the body? Thin air?
She nearly grinned which would have seemed unseemly at this point.
The human wing might freak him out.., and the thought of the alien walking amid tables of human cadavers nearly caused the smile to break loose anyway.
But she knew she shouldn’t judge the creature the way he had already judged her.
By calling the empire “sick” he had already issued his opinion before she even could level an answer.
But a xenospecialist does not look at things or view things from "her" perspective, but rather that of the alien’s.
As she stared at the alien, she noted he (he?) was rather thin…due to the lack of proper nutrition (not that the Imperials really knew what defined a balanced diet with these Azguardians. For all I know, they consider rancor kidneys a delicacy.), and that the alien also seemed to exhibit signs of exhaustion.
But the fact that alien had yet to kill himself quickly as others had gave Mara hope.
Maybe he was not insane, no matter his schizophrenic physiology? But was the alien the norm or the exception?
That was the question.
But I cannot provoke him.
How?
She knew that Moff Zell was good at what he did and what he excelled at was protecting the Empire.
If there was just no talking to these aliens, then there would be no solution but a military solution.
That an alien species would be so bent on destruction and death was…well.. alien.
But why?
To see things as the alien might was not as easy as it sounded. It was not enough to mimic actions but to truly see another side, one must “think” like the other. To understand the “why’s” of action.
The alien holding the blaster to her right now was twitching with impatience. He wanted an answer and quick.
But the answer was not that easy.
Or was it?
She did the only non-threatening move she could think of. A move that would not… should not alarm the Azguard.
She plopped down on her rear end, the suit providing a much needed cushion on the hard durasteel floor. She put her flashlight down next to her and tilted her helmeted head up to look at ..
What was his name?
“The kind of empire with advanced medical technology and top notch doctors, you goof!”, she thought with a sudden burst of affection as the alien’s eyes reflected something she perceived as confusion at her mannerisms.
Try a neutral topic.
“What’s your name?”
*
He held his rifle level, the sights aimed dead at the head of the human. He had known humans, mostly refugees from imperial worlds that made up the New Rebellion, one of the founding members of the Coalition. The human mind was unusual, so multi-faceted. The Azguard mind was simple: One half enjoyed itself and the other watched over it, that way every Azguard could enjoy life and be vigilant for danger at the same time.
Humans, every last one of them were different. They tried to fit way too much into their one personality. They tried to be vigilant yet carefree, happy yet guarded, it was such an unusual mix that to Azguards they seemed completely... Alien.
"I already said, I am Xill. It descended from an ancient saint, who fought the Xiloxian, a terrible beast who roamed the depths of the mountains."
In an effort to prove his point, he poited the rifle again.
"And about our science, it is one thing to dissect someone who has given their body over to science before death, it is quite another to imprison captured enemy civilians and dissect them as they kill themselves!"
He noted the human showed surprise. Why? He thought, suicide had been the only logical conclusion in their situation. If they had not there was a risk the Imperials would drag out of them the location of their homeworld, or worse. There had been no chance of escape. The only reason he had not done so was that the Gods had told him to do otherwise.
He decided he should inform the human, to avoid judgement over their behavior. "We kill ourselves, because it works towards a greater good. Alive but captured and beyond rescue, we are a great risk, perhaps as a bargening chip in negotiations, or perhaps used to reveal the location of our homeworld, or Gods know what else."
He frowned grimly. "Now, if you want information from me I will provide all you want, except the location of my home. But I also wish to stay here, because your Imperial colleagues may have some sort of unusual surprise waiting for me should I leave. Call me paranoid, but I do not completely trust you, what with being your prisoner and our nations being at war and all of that."
Before interrogation interviews start
“They are called Azguardians, Moff Zell.”
“I know what the @#%$ they are called. Please tell me we know something more about them than their @#%$ name?”
“Oh, of course, sir! Of course, we know much more.”
The panel of scientists and xenobiologists walked on either side of the retired Moff as he made his way down into the depths of the facility.
They entered a room where various people were pulling back skin and muscle tissue from dead aliens.
“Look over here, Moff Zell!” the head of the Xenobiology Department said, pointing to the remains of an Azguardian lying on a white operating table.
There were several autopsies being performed on the surrounding tables, the operators ignoring the Moff and his entourage.
The head of the Xeno Department removed an already cut skull fragment off the alien and Zell stared dispassionately inside.
“Their brains are arranged in a very peculiar manner.”
“How did this little @#%$ die?” Zell asked.
“Killed himself.”
Zell turned his head away from the alien remains to give the Head of the Xeno Department his full attention. “Explain.”
“It seems, from the security footage we’ve taken from Kamino sources on the Reef City, it seems that individuals such as this poor bloke served not only as noncommissioned civilians, but also doubled as warriors.”
Zell’s eyebrow rose slightly.
“It’s true! Apparently there is some chemical reaction in their brains that allows for these ‘split personality’ changes to occur. So we have civil engineer joe here.. but come some battle or fight they ‘change’ into a ‘battle mode’ if you will.”
Moff Zell’s eyes were scanning the bodies on the tables surrounding them. “This is for the entire race or just a localized mutation?”
“It appears to be the way this particular race evolved.”
A small smile formed on Zell’s lips, as the problems inherent with this evolutionary process came to mind.
“So engineer joe would have no idea what soldier joe would know or vice versa?”
“That is correct, Moff. Our typical interrogation methods do not apply. If soldier joe were given design specifications for a galaxy gun, we could not persuade, no matter what methods we applied, engineer joe to divulge the specifications.”
“Unless it WAS engineer joe who built the bloody thing.”
“Exactly! And now you come up with the fallacies of that particular evolutionary devlopement. One personality does not know what the other personality is doing. Their soldier personality is very fanatical to the point of extreme self destruction if captured.”
“But you have these.. bodies?”
“The self destruction is mental, Moff.”
“But we have prisoners..”
“Not at first. There were hundreds that off’ed themselves before we figured out what was happening. Imperial Intelligence began leaking information to the captives that the Empire was expecting the Mon Calamari to respond to the Kamino conquest instilling in them the hope that they would be rescued.”
“Why kill yourself if you are going to be rescued? You might still be able to stick it to the bad ol’ Empire eh?” Moff smiled grimly.
“Something like that. It gave us the time to stun the rest of the prisoners and keep them under until we could figure out an appropriate method of interrogation.”
“And?”
“Well, the with the hundreds that killed themselves, they gave us the necessary material to experiment with!”
Zell nearly grinned at the excitement the scientist showed at the opportunity of studying a strange and new alien species. “How accommodating of them.” He murmured dryly.
“Quite right!” the scientist excitedly continued. “We have their anatomy down their DNA figured out.”
“So you began to hypothesize and bring each prisoner out of their coma to test the theory?”
“Yes, indeed. And what we found is most interesting! Take a look here at these charts.”
“What do they show?”
“Brain development.”
“This is the soldier personality and this is the civilian?” Zell asked holding two reports.
“That is correct, sir.”
“This alien soldier is stupid.” Holding up the report with almost no development.
“In a sense, yes, sir.”
“Explain.”
“Let me see if I can do this…hmm… Well, Sir, like any living being, for abilities and intelligence to increase, the being needs.. time. Their brains assimilate, learn and grow.”
The scientist gestured to the alien on the table. “But with two separate, developing personalities, that time is split.”
Zell narrowed his eyes as he began to understand. “So while we have a soldier with 2 years experience..”
“They have a soldier, at the same age, with 1 year experience.”
“Because the other year is developing their civilian lifestyle.”
“Exactly! While you sir can be both soldier and civilian at the same time, these Azguardians ‘switch’ back and forth at will!
“So if you take their civilian to a planet by transport and he switches into soldier mode..”
“The soldier will not know where he is or how he got there.”
“But he will know how to fight..”
“If that is what he was trained for.” The scientist shrugged. “I suppose the social structure of these aliens is quite unique. Perhaps during their schooling they also switch to soldier mode and indoctrinated with combat training or specialized military training.”
“Such as..”
“Well, operation a starship.. navigation duties, weapons, computers.. things like that.”
“So their civilians have combat training?”
“The basics…yes. I mean there is nothing specialized about their training.. I mean why waste specialized schooling on individuals who’ll never see combat? But, because they have evolved their minds to two personalities, then they have to develop their combat personality at least somewhat.”
Zell was not very interested.
“So if their combat personalities were not developed, they would be.. blank?”
The scientist smiled. “If you keep a baby in the dark and do not speak to it or train it in any way, but keep it’s body alive, will it be of any use?”
“I see your point.”
“So most civilians.. or Azguardians who have chosen to live as civilians, while they have this ‘combat’ personality, it’s only very basic training.”
“They become drones for the direction of an Azguardian with a more developed combat personality?”
“Exactly, Sir! There are those Azguardians who prefer military duties so their civilian personalities are underdeveloped.”
Zell barked out a laugh. “So their soldiers can only reproduce if they rape one of their own because they are socially challenged?”
“They aren’t made for propagation. They are trained to fight, or serve in some other specialized military function.”
“The fishhead @#%$ were smart to exploit these stupid aliens.”
Zell peered into the chest cavity of another autopsy victim. “But what does this do for interrogation?”
“Well, Moff, one of their basic training for their combat personality is to kill themselves if in a no-win situation. A very basic command like the proper way to button up your combat uniform.”
“So, if the civilians feel all is lost, they kill themselves?”
“No. If the civilians are captured and feel all is lost, they know they have to switch to their combat personality. They do that and the personality takes an assessment and then, if it’s no-win, attempts to kill itself.
Because these aliens can control at will their switching back and forth, it gives us hope. You see, then the function becomes something like a conscious use of muscle.”
“A muscle we can stimulate or deaden externally!” the conclusion was firm to Zell.
“That is correct.”
“So when you wake the sons of @#%$ up, you have their muscle deadened already, so they can’t switch into combat mode to kill themselves.”
“Again correct, Moff.”
“But do their civilians know anything?”
“Sir, when the other’s killed themselves, our scans reveals this area of their brains active.” The doctor doing the autopsy commented between incisions. “When we woke them, most of them showed this area of their brains active. We measure each part to see how developed they are. This gives us an idea of how much time a particular Azguardian has spent as a soldier or civilian.”
“The civilians will know more than you might think.”
Zell snorted at that. “And interrogating their soldier?”
“Harder to do, but possible..but only in some circumstances. What is nice as that even though these aliens hold two personalities, both personalities use the same body. So if the civilian is deprived of sleep for three days, and we stimulate the muscle to turn them into soldier mode, the tired effects of their body are still felt.”
Moff Zell picked up a report and flipped through it until coming to one with a highly developed civilian personality. “I want to talk to this one. And I want another live one put into the cell so he can see me kill it.”
“Why?” the scientist frowned.
Zell grinned. “You’ve made great strides in understanding their anatomy doctor. But doesn’t an alien race who puts it into the minds of their combat personalities to kill themselves if caught or a no-win presents itself show itself to have a particularly psyche that we can use?”
“Such as?”
“The fact that these @#%$ would rather kill themselves than live with the possibility of failure. Imagine the psychological impact of being faced with a situation where you have to face the consequences of your actions? Imagine that there is no easy way out like death and they have stare into the face of accountability?”
Zell began to laugh harshly. “These @#%$ aliens are cowards! They are all set to kill themselves and that can be used to our advantage. They are about to face their accountability to the Empire. Copy what you’ve learned, encrypt the data and deliver to the Grand Marshall Kaine. This data is also going to Commodore Gevel?”
The scientist nodded.
“Excellent. Now show me the little shitface.”
*
Elsewhere – location undisclosed
“What is my name?” The light was harsh, the question a drone in the mind of a very dehydrated body.
“I…. I don’t know…” came the parched response from cracked and bleeding lips.
“Do we need another lesson?” the voice was firm, unyielding.
“N..no.” the alien’s eyes widened in desperation.
A hand lashed out, striking the creature tied down.
“Your stink is offensive to me! Your cowardly acts contemptible!
You do not deserve to live.” The harsh voice spat out.
“P…please… I .. “
“You can end this, you know? You can end this right now..”
“P..please..” the alien shuddered, hunger and thirst burning their desire within.
The voice changed as a weapon was aimed straight at the alien. The voice was soft, pleading in it’s own way.
“End this, please..” it said, strong yet hopeful.
“I…. I …” one eye was bleeding, the good eye staring down the barrel of the weapon, his expression totally helpless.
“Why did you live with the Calamarians?”
“I don’t know…”: the reply, was the same. “I am just an engineer… I fix things..”
The weapon hit against the victim’s cheek.
“What secrets do you possess?!”
“I.. have…..no… secrets..” It was becoming harder to talk.
The weapon’s energy charge was building.
“WHY DID YOU COMMIT MURDER!!??” the voice was unforgiving.
“I… no… murder… no..” the voice was weakening as the tied creature found sitting up becoming too difficult.
The voice murmured something and a strong voice came in over some speakers.
The voice was that of Jan Dondana.
“Do you think anyone gives a @#%$ about you?” the voice asked, quietly incredulous.
Desperation, depression, helplessness… all these emotions played across in various shades as the voice studied the complete shattering of the other’s reality.
“One more time: Why did you murder?” the voice asked.
“I…. I DON’T KNOW!!!…” wailed the creature, sheer exhaustion taking it’s toll.
The weapons charge clicked and the gun shifted from the restrained alien to another lying unconscious on the floor.
The gun discharged and the creature let out an anguished cry. The cry of futility.
The captive’s head hung and the creature wept dryly. There were no more tears.
“Let me ask you something easy.” The voice said, almost conversationally, giving the hint of granting a very large concession.
“Your pain and those of your companions will end if you can answer just one question… just one simple question.”
The alien raised his tired and beaten eyes at the interrogator. The aging man smiled congenially.
“What is my name?”
The alien stared at him in horror because for the life of him..
…he didn’t know..
*
Undisclosed Location... Several Days Ago...
"Do you really expect the Azguardian to talk?" the scientist asked as Moff Zell exited the interrogation room.
"Of course! That is the nature of interrogations!" Zell responded somewhat surprised at the naivete of the scientist.
But then again, scientists were always a bit naive.
"Everyone eventually talks!"
"But aren't there holdouts?"
Zell laughed. "Ah, the defiance of the hero... Nowadays, there is no one... no one in this galaxy that can interrogate as skillfully as the Empire. It comes from having to deal with underground rebellions .." the Moff's voice trailed off as he stepped out of the hall and into the main observation room noting several new people milling about carrying electronic datapads and recorders doubtless trying to squeeze every ounce of scientific data from the dissected bodies of the aliens as they could.
"Moff Zell! This is surely a surprise!" exclaimed one of the newcomers. Zell's eyes narrowed at the approaching woman as her name and personal information rolled across his brain.
"Dominic" the Moff said galantly taking her hand and kissing it.
The woman blushed slightly not being used to such attentions.
Another thing that scientists were naive at.
Whatever his personal opinion of the woman, however, she was on one of the preeminent scientific teams that spearheaded the Empire's setting up of Reproduction Centers.. safehouses for the alien population of the Empire to turn too if the Coalition or other pathetic enemy of the Empire turned once more to biological warfare.
"What brings you here?" she asked, pushing her antiquated eyeglasses further up the bridge of her nose. She was in her late thirties but already eccentricity was setting in.
“Alien fears…” Zell muttered irritably.
“Yours?” she asked slightly confused.
“Theirs.”
"Ahh.. their 'Declaration'?"
"You've heard?" Zell asked, slightly surprised that the woman kept up with the political happenings of the Empire.
"It's all that's been on the news." she answered absently as her interest suddenly moved to the alien creature lying down at the table nearest them. "Fascinating!" she whispered. "Truly a fascinating species."
Zell nearly barked out a laugh and quipped something about the alien having questionable parentage.
Her fingers moved to the forehead of the creature and Zell noted a fine line circling the Azguardian's entire skull. The woman's delicate fingers pushed slightly and the top portion of the alien skull came apart revealing a truly disgusting thing. Something that Zell would have sworn these aliens were missing.
A brain.
"The earlier reports were incorrect." she murmured as she picked up a very thin needle and began probing.
That caught the Moff's interest.
"How so?"
"The initial report stated that the two personalities exhibited by these creatures was entirely split, the one side not knowing what the other would be."
"But?" prodded Zell.
"That's not entirely correct. There was a rudimentary understanding as several subjects switched from their 'civilian'
personality to their 'military' one."
Zell smiled grimly. "That only adds to our purpose."
"How so?" the woman looked up curiously.
"It saves us from having to rehash everything when the bloody @#%$ switch from personality to personality."
"There is something else that would help you.."
"Yes?"
"Here... look!" she pointed and Zell peered closer to where she was probing with her needle. She applied a small amount of pressure a nerve ending and the alien on the table began to weep.
"Exerting pressure here in this region of their cortex automatically stimulates emotional responses."
Zell at first was startled to find that the alien was still alive and somehow conscious but the initial surprise died quickly.
The Moff put his hand on hers and applied more pressure and the alien began to weep more dramatically.
"Great @#%$ Jedi!" the Moff whispered. "Do you know what this means?"
The woman only smiled and Zell knew that she would exact something for her sharing.
I just might have to horn that superior attitude out of her..
He knew the next session would be very different. Lost in thought he suddenly forgot about the weeping creature on the table and plans of action began to form.
*
An “Undisclosed” location
Xill Turner was an average Azguard. He was of fit build, of strong spirit, and of unshakable faith. When they had been captured, many decided that it was not worth the risk to the homeland to continue living. They had to kill themselves least the enemy learn where they’re from and bring death to their families. Xill had thought differently. He was from the fire tribe, and as far as he was considered, he was going to have a stab at the Imperials before they were finished here.
The gods of Azguard respect courage, and of the few survivors in the prisons, he was definitely the most courageous. So, far off on Azguard, the Gods pooled their power, and sent it across the galaxy to their servant with a message. Avenge your kin.
Outside his cell, a pair of stromtroopers stood at attention, bored, tired by yet another hour at guard. There was a noise from inside the cell, so one of them turned to look inside. A dozen aliens were strapped to different tables, each connected to a drip laden with drugs to keep them asleep. No, eleven. One table was empty.
The two guards looked at each other. Keying in the code, they raised their rifles and stepped slowly into the room. It was eerily silent, as each of the faces remained perfectly still. Then, suddenly, a grey figure fell from above onto one guard. Long claws ripped through his helmet and pierced his skull with an all-mighty rip. Blood spurted from his head, and he fell dead. The other turned, pointed his rifle at the massive alien towering above, but it was too late. A clawed hand shot out and gutted him like a fish. He fell dead too.
Xill stepped slowly from his cell. The way was clear. In one hand he had a rifle, the other had his claws, blood-stained and dripping with gore, fully extended. His fangs dripped venom, and he set off to free his kin, for better or worse, for vengeance or victory. Moving from shadow to shadow, destroying security cameras and then going the other way to fool them into thinking he was going that way. Finally settling in a silent rest-room, he waited for more guards to pass by.
*
Undisclosed Location
"There, that's the last of it.." the woman at Azrael Zell's side as she drew the greenish bio fluid from the body of the Azguard lying on the table in front of them.
The woman was licking her lips in concentration as her hand held steady while removing the rather long needle.
"Hmm..." she murmured noticing strange markings on the skin. "Caste identifier's perhaps?"
She turned to the Moff and he simply shrugged, quiet in his impatience.
The syringe went into a the last of many containers housing Azguard biomaterial.
"The Imperial Sciences will be getting some of this, won't they Moff Zell?" the woman asked as she stripped off her operating gloves.
"Of course, my dear." Zell instantly replied running the quantities off in his head allocating some to the biogenetics facilities that Arliss controlled, some to xenoweapons developement, some to each protectorate to research any way their leaders felt necessary...
"There will be enough."
"What do we do with the rest of the prisoners?" a soldier asked.
"We are moving to Phase III, which requires.. well.. a better environment than this." the Moff gestured.
And then suddenly the lights dimmed.
"What the @#%$ was that?" the Moff nearly shouted in anger.
"Signal! Coming in strong!" Zell was already out the door and into the comm room.
"A communications signal?" he barked out entering briskly.
"Not sure sir! I don't think so... the computers are not able to put together any coherent mesage.." the comm officer turned and Zell took a look.
"That's not a comm signal. I don't know what the @#%$ that is. Origin?"
"Extrapolating. The power descent rate is being calculated as its strength."
"Do we know the general @#%$ direction it came from, at least?" the retired Moff asked, incredulously.
"Yes sir. There!" pointing to an unexplored area on the galactic map.
Zell's eyes narrowed and a small feral grin appeared. "Very interesting. Ask the monitors if they have noticed anything different in any of the..."
And that is when the alarm sounded, lockdown being implimented.
"Moff Zell", a Stormtrooper entered drawing Azrael's attention. "We have a situation."
"Care to elaborate?"
"A prisoner has escaped."
Zell's eyes lit up with anticipation. "Has the little @#%$ tried to strike at the scientists?"
"No sir. He seems to be heading in one direction destroying cameras."
"Can we confirm?"
"No sir."
"Get me a thermal scan of the building. That'll tell us. Seal off the rest of the lab from that entire wing and have the scientist effect a quarantine.
Statis all the prisoners."
As the trooper relayed Zell's orders and blastdoors were heard lowering, the woman came running in. "An alien woke up?"
"After we identified a signal alien in nature..."
"External control?"
"Perhaps. If so, then this does open up possibilities for controlling their entire race."
"That's my girl." Zell chuckled appreciatively.
"The entire wing is sealed, all vents closed. It's going to get mighty uncomfortable in there soon enough. Do we know if anyone has been.."
"Two troopers confirmed dead."
"So we assume the little @#%$ is armed."
The woman saw the thermal scanning systems being set up and remarked, "Perhaps you could direct the readings to another location so we can see can gauge how he reacts."
"You mean whether his little wanker will extend if we ring a bell?" Zell commented offhandedly.
The woman pursed her lips. "Crude but essentially correct. While we can measure their brain sizes we have no real gauge for the intelligence of the species."
"They are attacking the Empire. It can't be that high.." quipped Zell.
Another xenobiologist came into the room. "What about the other bodies on tables in the cell?" he asked.
"They are trapped and we cannot get to them since the wing is sealed off. The alien may try to use the bodies as food to survive."
"They already believe in killing themselves in the face of overwhelming odds, so the fact that this one is trying to escape.."
"Makes him a retarded person in their little macabre society?"
"I don't know but who knows what he'd use the bodies for.."
"Can we get a visual on the bodies strapped down?"
"Yes, the camera in the cell is active... only the cameras in the halls have been damaged."
"Playback and let's see the little @#%$. I also want the serial number to the trooper assigned to be watching the monitor." The Moff's voice shot out harshly.
They watched as the body twitched on the screen, the time index on the camera matching that of the signal. They saw the creature attack the troopers with it's claws.
"Classic territorial responses." a Xenobiologist exclaimed. Another pointed, "I don't see how you might classify this as a reptile, Doctor. It's classic .."
"Bullshit." Zell started. "Initiate viral quarantine in that room, now!"
And small openings appeared on the walls.
Flames of fire roared out and soon the room was engulfed, burning eveything.
"If that beastie is carrying a disease, we may need the Imperial Animal Control to come in and.."
"It is able to fly a ship.." the woman said incredulously.
"It is able to push buttons that happens to fly a ship," Zell corrected. He grinned, "Until we know more about them, I plan on keeping my mind open."
"Sir! We've triangulated an origin of the signal!"
Zell's smile got wider. "Now we send an encrypted databurst to Muunillist."
"What about the alien?"
"Throw in a Mon Calamari prisoner and let's see what happens."
"Which one?"
"One of the special ones.."
And a blastdoor opened as soldiers with blasters at the ready pointed down a bare hall intent on shooting anything that moved.
They pushed an emaciated Mon Calamari prisoner into the hall and closed the blastdoor sealing it.
The scientists, xenobiologists and company watched the thermal scanners with interest.
*
Xill looked at the weak prisoner. It was clear they knew he was free. A quick pattern of thought occured in his mind. Ifthey knew he was awake, why didn't they kill him? Did they want to study him? Did they want to see what he would do? Like some sort of trained beast? Well, he would give them some surprises.
He moved slowly, ever so slowly, towards the prisoner. He remained concealed. Finally he said "Xill, military engineer no 11023. Western point division."
He slowly pointed the rifle at the Mon Calamarian. "State your name and rank. Also, query 19, azguard field handbook: Prisoners, states that I must ask you the following questions: Do you understand me?"
The Mon Calamarian nodded.
"If you are diseased or wounded, or you think you may be, please move around this corridor. I intend to move this way."
Slowly, wide-eyed, the Mon Calamarian moved away. Azguards were sort of mythical in the Coalition Society. They were rarely encountered, and if they were it was only in military situations. Some even theorised they were built for war by the Mon Calamarian Command.
Once he was well away, the Azguardian moved towards the door. There were probably hidden camers or something, so he spoke:
"I am Xill, military engineer no 11023. Western point division, formerly posted at Kamino. I request official rights and privelidges as a captured military prisoner. I am a sentient being and as such deserve to be treated with respect. Perhaps you were not aware of that with my comrades, but if you are indeed the Empire then I assume it made little difference. I am unaware of why you sent the Mon Calamarian prisoner in, perhaps as bait, or to spread disease upon me, but I warn you that I am watching him, and any such adanve will be met with force. Any attempt at attack will result in me being forced to terminate as many of you as possible, which I assure you I can do easily. If you have questions pertaining to Azguards, I may be able to answer them for you..."
*
Undisclosed Location
The alien was chattering with chirps, squeaks and whistles and Azrael Zell frowned.
“What the bloody @#%$ is the little nip trying to say?! We don’t have a translation program here..?”
A technician looked mortified at the Moff’s outrage. “Not in the monitoring rooms.”
“Of course not. The bloody little nip may not have anything useful to say after all…” Zell commented sarcastically. “Nothing like working with the best and the brightest..”
The soldier reddened and motioned for several nearby technicians to go to work uploading the translating patterns from the interrogation software into the monitoring computers.
“It will take a few minutes, Sir.” The soldier offered lamely.
“Do you at least have his location?” Zell demanded mercilessly.
“Heat signature coming through now..”
“Of course. The location of an escaped alien prisoner is probably not a top notch priority for this facility.” Zell barked back bitingly and the soldier began to visibly tremble.
“Let me know when you have the information.” The old man’s voice suddenly had a soft unsettling quality to it and the Moff left the monitoring room to an adjacent room, sitting down at a rather plain gray conference table, his mind in thought. He pushed a button on the table, “Mara? You’d better get up here. I have a mission for you that you’ll be absolutely thrilled at.”
“Moff Zell, it had better be something special. The data that is being sent down here is ..is absolutely fascinating.” Came an answering voice of a woman who sounded really young.
“Just pack it up and get over here. Better bring the xeno-suit as well.”
“Really?” the young woman squealed in delight. “On my way!”
Dominic entered the room as Zell clicked off the comm..
“Even you cannot discount that the alien was talking to us. Even if we couldn’t understand what it was saying, it points to a rudimentary at the very least form of sentience.” She started without preamble, interrupting the old man’s thoughts.
“Of course the little @#%$ is sentient.” Zell grumbled, irritated at his thoughts being interrupted.
The woman exhaled sharply and sat down next to the old man. “Then why the act? Why the façade about this alien species?”
Zell frowned. “It isn’t an ‘act’, Dominic. What do we know…really know.. about this species? You’re a physiological doctor. You’ve seen the anatomy of these creatures, you’ve seen the differences. What species comes close to what we’ve seen on those tables?”
“None come to mind.” Dominic answered. “But you dismiss them as if they were…something less than they appear to be.”
Zell’s eyes narrowed. “Dominic, what we’ve seen of their physiological differences is next to astounding, wouldn’t you agree?”
When the older woman nodded, Zell looked over her shoulder at someone who had just ran several levels to get to where he was.
“Mara? Do you want to explain to the good doctor the x-factor?”
A young woman with light brown hair shook her pony-tail as she slipped on a helmet. The gray suit (which looked like some body armor) was the latest in xeno technological advancements. Going into an alien environment or coming into contact with an unknown alien quantity, the suit was a must.
Her voice spoke through the suit’s microphones as she did a check. Looking down at Moff Zell she answered, “The x-factor is their psychological make-up.”
“Exactly.” Zell commented. “What do we know about them psychologically, Dominic? What do we really know about them?”
Mara interrupted: “When we took Kamino away from the Coalition there were scores of these aliens living there. Were they an occupying army? Were they slaves of the Mon Calamari? What was their status within the Coalition hierarchy? They are one of three planets that banded together to form this “coalition” but does that make them the stronger link? The weaker?”
“When we captured them,” Zell continued, “they started committing suicide.”
“It is indicative of a lack of respect for life, especially their own.” Mara picked up.
“Tell me, Dominic? If an enemy does not respect their own life, will they respect yours?”
The older woman’s eyes moved from the young xenopyschologist to the Moff. “I see where you are going with this.”
Moff Zell asked. “Are they intelligent? Yes. Can they operate starships? Yes. Do they have at least a rudimentary culture? Yes. Are they sentient? Yes.”
Mara again interrupted, her excitement at the prospect of meeting this alien species bubbling over, “But how do we deal with them? Their anatomy gives them a schizophrenic bearing. That alone, by our standards, puts them as clinically insane or at the very least, mentally deficient.”
Zell concluded, “So we have an alien species that violently took part in or approved of the Coalition’s conquest of Kamino. These creatures have already declared war on us (for whatever reason) and have attacked enmassi. Then, they kill themselves when captured almost automatically. They are schizophrenic while all the time nourishing this hatred for the Empire. Tell me Dominic, does this sound like any enlightened species you would want to co-exist with?”
Dominic weakly responded, “But they are sentient.”
“So is a serial killer, Ma’am.” Mara chimed in. “Also, serial killers can be frightfully intelligent, cultured and well mannered.”
“Does that mean I want to live on the same block as one?” Zell asked rhetorically.
“So you need to establish..?”
“Something other than sentience. Something other than culture. Something other than intelligence.”
“Such as..?”
“The ability to reason objectively.” Mara finished. “Which, I suppose, is why I am here?”
“You were always a smart girl, Mara.”
“When do I go?”
“Let’s find out shall we..?”
Zell stood up and returned to the monitoring station. “Do you have that translation for me soldier.”
“Just came in sir.”
“Let’s see it.”
A slow smile spread across Moff Zell’s face. “So the little nip’s can be reasonable.” He turned to the suited up Mara and she winked at him through her helmet.
“It’s always better than killing yourself.” She quipped.
“Agreed.” Zell said, turning his back to her to glance at the thermal scans that showed where the alien was hiding.
“Mara, we’ll have to change our plans in light of this new information.”
“No phase three?”
“Let’s say Phase Three will be revised.”
Mara opened her mouth but Zell cut her off. “I don’t know yet. Depends on the ramifications of what you can do.”
Mara’s eyes smiled. “You don’t like losing opportunities.”
“Not if I can help it. I have no idea where this will go but if the bugger is talking then perhaps we can find out why they are bent on killing us.”
Mara’s helmet nodded and as she turned to follow a group of stormtroopers Zell placed a hand on her shoulder. “Be careful in there Mara. We don’t know how this alien will react. He may just go berserk..”
“Or laugh insanely while trying to take my heart..” Mara concluded. “I’m a xeno-specialist Moff. I know the risks.” The the girl grinned. “However, his attitude toward the Mon Calamari is very.. interesting.”
Zell smiled. “Caught that too did you.”
“You’re in my element now, Moff.”
“Shall I wish you the Emperor’s luck?” he asked.
“Good heavens why? He died.” And she was off.
Standing in front of the sealed blastdoors, two whole companies of stormtroopers leveled their weapons as the magnetic locks were uncoupled and the seal broken.
The door opened a crack and Mara slipped in, feeling the vibration of the door closing behind her and hearing the magnetic locks snapping in place.
She was a slender girl, about 5’ 6”, her gray form fitting xeno-suit, made little noise as the moved down a dark corridor. Made of a thick plastic-like material, it shined in the beam of light shining from her hand held flashlight.
So far she saw no sign of the alien or the Mon Calamari.
She clicked her comm several times to check it’s operation and once satisfied began to dictate her advance.
She noted a line of cameras shot up in the hall.
“Definitely armed.” She commented.
She herself was not armed and if the alien still retained the strength to carve up stormtroopers with it’s bare hands she really did not think that Moff Zell’s soldiers could get to her in time.
“Why do I get myself into situations like this?” she mumbled to herself, the excitement in her eyes calling her words lies.
With the aircirculators down and the ventilation shafts in lockdown in the entire wing, she noted her scanner readings without much surprise.
“Temperature is cooler. Oxygen content is normal, probably due to the lack of personnel in the area..
She needed to take another base reading just to make sure there were no bacteria floating around from the alien. Something that would be normal for them but harmful for humans.
She didn’t think so but it was always good to be sure.
“Hello?” she called out, switching her microphone to the suit’s externals.
*
Xill was on the ceiling. Hnaging from a pipe with his claws. The Mon Calamari was no where to be found and he hoped it stayed away. Mon Calamarians are not the best creatures for stealth. He began cutting specific wires imbedded in the wall, and counted under his breath. As the woman in the suit approached he swung down to a level position.
As he did so the lights went out. He watched her from the shadows, she showed little concern as the lighting lowered, merely interest. There was just enough to see by, and Xill slipped carefully behind her. For a moment he considered killing her, but that would get him nowhere.
"Halt" He cried. He leveld his blaster and took careful aim. His eyes remained effective in the dark. "I want one answer right now: What kind of sick empire dissects their dead civilian prisoners? Have you no respect? If not for the fact you were a woman I would be disposed to shoot you now."
*
Undisclosed Location
He speaks Basic!
Mara watched with eyes fascinated at the elongated claws the Azguard alien possessed. The multiversitile uses for the claws that were displayed interested the xenospecialist to no end which is why she had to catch herself as she moved closer to the alien without thinking just to inspect the natural biological defense mechanism of the creature.
The fact that the alien held an Imperial-issued blaster from a recently dead stormtrooper almost did not enter her mind at all.
Almost.
She caught herself at the last minute and drew herself back as the alien asked its question of her.
What kind of sick empire dissects …??
The question seemed rather odd to Mara for, in her opinion, the idea of dissecting dead bodies for the betterment of science and knowledge was rather obvious to her. Every civilization who's medical technology had advanced higher than that of stone knives and bearskins took part in autopsies and schools trained in dissecting cadavers.
Where does he think doctor's get their knowledge about the body? Thin air?
She nearly grinned which would have seemed unseemly at this point.
The human wing might freak him out.., and the thought of the alien walking amid tables of human cadavers nearly caused the smile to break loose anyway.
But she knew she shouldn’t judge the creature the way he had already judged her.
By calling the empire “sick” he had already issued his opinion before she even could level an answer.
But a xenospecialist does not look at things or view things from "her" perspective, but rather that of the alien’s.
As she stared at the alien, she noted he (he?) was rather thin…due to the lack of proper nutrition (not that the Imperials really knew what defined a balanced diet with these Azguardians. For all I know, they consider rancor kidneys a delicacy.), and that the alien also seemed to exhibit signs of exhaustion.
But the fact that alien had yet to kill himself quickly as others had gave Mara hope.
Maybe he was not insane, no matter his schizophrenic physiology? But was the alien the norm or the exception?
That was the question.
But I cannot provoke him.
How?
She knew that Moff Zell was good at what he did and what he excelled at was protecting the Empire.
If there was just no talking to these aliens, then there would be no solution but a military solution.
That an alien species would be so bent on destruction and death was…well.. alien.
But why?
To see things as the alien might was not as easy as it sounded. It was not enough to mimic actions but to truly see another side, one must “think” like the other. To understand the “why’s” of action.
The alien holding the blaster to her right now was twitching with impatience. He wanted an answer and quick.
But the answer was not that easy.
Or was it?
She did the only non-threatening move she could think of. A move that would not… should not alarm the Azguard.
She plopped down on her rear end, the suit providing a much needed cushion on the hard durasteel floor. She put her flashlight down next to her and tilted her helmeted head up to look at ..
What was his name?
“The kind of empire with advanced medical technology and top notch doctors, you goof!”, she thought with a sudden burst of affection as the alien’s eyes reflected something she perceived as confusion at her mannerisms.
Try a neutral topic.
“What’s your name?”
*
He held his rifle level, the sights aimed dead at the head of the human. He had known humans, mostly refugees from imperial worlds that made up the New Rebellion, one of the founding members of the Coalition. The human mind was unusual, so multi-faceted. The Azguard mind was simple: One half enjoyed itself and the other watched over it, that way every Azguard could enjoy life and be vigilant for danger at the same time.
Humans, every last one of them were different. They tried to fit way too much into their one personality. They tried to be vigilant yet carefree, happy yet guarded, it was such an unusual mix that to Azguards they seemed completely... Alien.
"I already said, I am Xill. It descended from an ancient saint, who fought the Xiloxian, a terrible beast who roamed the depths of the mountains."
In an effort to prove his point, he poited the rifle again.
"And about our science, it is one thing to dissect someone who has given their body over to science before death, it is quite another to imprison captured enemy civilians and dissect them as they kill themselves!"
He noted the human showed surprise. Why? He thought, suicide had been the only logical conclusion in their situation. If they had not there was a risk the Imperials would drag out of them the location of their homeworld, or worse. There had been no chance of escape. The only reason he had not done so was that the Gods had told him to do otherwise.
He decided he should inform the human, to avoid judgement over their behavior. "We kill ourselves, because it works towards a greater good. Alive but captured and beyond rescue, we are a great risk, perhaps as a bargening chip in negotiations, or perhaps used to reveal the location of our homeworld, or Gods know what else."
He frowned grimly. "Now, if you want information from me I will provide all you want, except the location of my home. But I also wish to stay here, because your Imperial colleagues may have some sort of unusual surprise waiting for me should I leave. Call me paranoid, but I do not completely trust you, what with being your prisoner and our nations being at war and all of that."
