CHAPTER NINE
“I don’t think you realize, Baron Fel, just how long I have been waiting for this moment.”
Soontir Fel said nothing as he sat on his knees, held up by a pair of stormtroopers. Blood dripped from his broken nose and his face was heavily bruised from the beating he had received. He had turned himself in willingly when his X-wing fighter arrived on Coruscant, but that didn’t mean Isard wasn’t going to have her fun with him.
Still, as much as she would have liked to execute him there on the spot, or perhaps even throw him into Lusankya, a deal was a deal, and she was not going to upset Thrawn now when she needed his services now more than other. The Grand Admiral had already sent a shuttle to receive Baron Fel before she had even informed him of the Corellian’s capture.
After making a mental note to figure out what Thrawn’s methods of intelligence gathering were, she motioned for the two stormtroopers to take Fel away, albeit not before taking the opportunity to spit in his bruised face. She watched as the white-armored soldiers carried him out, allowing herself a smirk as she reveled in this small victory, as inconsequential as it was.
Now to rid myself of the rest of Rogue Squadron, she said to herself. Should Wedge Antilles or any of his ilk end up on her doorstep, she would not be so merciful to them.
Hands clasped behind her back, she turned to look out the window of her office, watching the skyline of the ever-encompassing city as night fell over Imperial Center.
She had dedicated so much of her life and career towards reaching this moment. She would do everything in her power to make sure it did not slip from her fingers.
The Empire was hers. Coruscant was hers.
And no one would take it away from her.
* * *
Soontir Fel could not see where he was. His entire body ached from the beating he had received from the stormtroopers and his right eye was beginning to swell up. His ribs hurt like hell, making it difficult to sit without lurching forward, although the guards on the shuttle would not let him lie down.
The pain only worsened when the shuttle shuddered to a stop, indicating that it had arrived at its destination—whatever that was. He felt himself being pulled forcibly out of his seat and led down the ramp. Through his swollen eyes, he could see an entourage of stormtroopers awaiting him in the hangar bay. Standing in front of them were two officers; one was human, with the standard uniform of an Imperial captain, while the other had blue skin and glowing red eyes, with the white and gold uniform of a Grand Admiral.
Fel felt his heart skip a beat. He recognized the alien. He remembered seeing him at the planning stages for the Battle of Derra IV; the true mastermind behind that whole ordeal.
The stormtroopers held Fel upright as the alien Grand Admiral regarded him with his glowing eyes, acknowledging his presence with a courteous nod.
“Welcome, Baron Soontir Fel, to the Chimaera. I am Grand Admiral Thrawn.” He gestured to the captain beside him. “This is Captain Pellaeon. I take it from your current condition that Director Isard did not take kindly to your arrival on Coruscant?”
Fel glowered at Thrawn as best he could despite his bruised face. “I remember you. You developed the plan for Derra Four, with Lord Vader.”
Thrawn’s lips twisted into a smirk. “I am flattered that you remember me, Baron Fel. Although you do not seem pleased by my presence.”
Fel took in a deep breath before releasing it in a sigh. “Forgive me, Grand Admiral. My anger is not directed at you so much as what you represent in my eyes. The Empire as I know it has been built on the tenets of the High Human Culture, and yet….”
“And yet it relies on non-humans for their victories.” Thrawn nodded sagely, appearing to be not at all offended by Fel’s words. “Yes, I am aware of the hypocrisy. It is something I would be most pleased to discuss with you should we ever find the time. But until then, we have more important matters to attend to.”
Fel regarded Thrawn skeptically. “Why am I here? Why did Isard send me to you?”
“It was at my request,” Thrawn said. “You are much too talented and skilled to be wasted by Isard, who I have no doubt would have you executed or imprisoned for eternity due to her petty grudges. I made a deal with her to acquire your services while simultaneously removing you from the New Republic’s service. You are an enemy of the Empire no longer, Fel. You are a true Imperial, as you were always meant to be.”
“I no longer wish to be an Imperial,” Fel muttered. “Not if it means serving Isard. I just want to find my wife and child.”
“It is fortunate, then, that both matters have already been addressed. You will be serving me rather than Isard… and your wife and child have already been found.”
He motioned with a hand and the sea of stormtroopers behind him parted as one of their number brought a young woman with blonde hair forward. In her arms was an infant child, who slept peacefully in his mother’s arms.
Fel sucked in his breath. “Syal?”
The woman’s eyes lit up upon seeing him. “Soontir?”
Suddenly, all of the pain in his body went away as Fel slipped out of the stormtrooper’s grasp and ran to his wife and son, pulling them into his embrace. Thrawn and his forces watched them silently, but Fel no longer cared about them. They could do whatever they wanted with him now; all that mattered to him was that his family was safe.
His family….
Fel pulled away slightly from Syal, keeping her in his arms as he turned to look back at Thrawn. Before he could even say anything, the Grand Admiral raised a blue hand to stop him, as if he already knew what he was going to say.
“Arrangements have already been made to relocate the rest of your family, Baron Fel. You will all be kept safe from Isard’s unpredictable wrath. All I ask in return is your loyalty.”
Fel did not need to think about it for long. All of his reservations about the alien and all of his questions about what the Grand Admiral was up to was irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. If it meant keeping his family safe, then he would do anything.
“You will have it,” he said. He then broke away from Syal to give Thrawn a proper salute. “Baron Soontir Fel at your service, Grand Admiral.”
Thrawn smiled, and it almost seemed genuine. “Excellent. Welcome back to the Empire, Baron Fel. Your service shall be greatly appreciated.”
* * *
“I heard about what happened to Syal. I’m sorry.”
Wedge smiled sadly at the hologram of Sabine Wren. “Thank you, Sabine. And hey, don’t blame yourself for not being there to protect her. I understand you had… other matters to take care of.”
Sabine simply nodded silently. She hadn’t spoken much about it, but from what Wedge had gathered her entire clan had been wiped out on Mandalore during the Empire’s assault. The New Republic had not been able to reach the system in time, and the Mandalorians were now scattered across the galaxy, left without a place to call home.
Wedge supposed he wasn’t the only one who had lost family today…
After a moment, Sabine cleared her throat to break the silence that had fallen. “Anyway, I can’t speak for long. We’re due for Lothal and there’s… someone I need to meet up with. I wish I could tell you the details, but… you know.”
Wedge wasn’t sure he did, but he pretended to either way. “I hear you. I have something important to take care of as well; don’t want to be caught procrastinating or else they’ll think Janson’s been rubbing off on me.”
That got a smile from Sabine, as sad as it was. “I won’t keep you then. I’ll see you around, Wedge. And… may the Force be with you.”
“And with you, old friend.”
After exchanging their goodbyes, the call between the two friends ended, with Sabine’s hologram dissipating into the air. Wedge took a moment to recompose himself before exiting his new office aboard the Restoration. Outside, he was surprised to see a familiar face waiting for him.
“Wes!” Wedge exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
Wes Janson lifted his eyes from the datapad he had been reading and gave Wedge a mock grimace. “Guess who got transferred to Nantz’s fleet? And was put in command of Yellow Squadron?”
Wedge beamed at him. “Now you are finally going to understand my pain. Congratulations, Janson. You are now officially an adult.”
Janson snorted before waving with the datapad in his hands. “I also wanted to get a peek at the folks you’ve got lined up for this new squadron of yours. You should have cross-examined them with me, just for old time’s sake. Some of these people, Wedge… I don’t know how you’re gonna manage them.”
“Why, do you know some of them?”
“I mean, maybe just from reputation alone.” Janson tapped the screen with the back of his hand. “I mean, Koko is going to be stinking up the flight simulators on day one. That one belches worse than a Hutt. And Jethpur, hoo boy, if you thought Nrin was insufferable, wait until you get a load of him!”
“Uh-huh.” Wedge reached over and took the datapad from Janson’s hands. “I can’t imagine any of them being as bad as you.”
“You never know. If that Toah Jarsan guy is half as dangerously handsome as me… you’re gonna have your work cut out for you.”
“Jarsan, eh?” Wedge checked the name on the datapad. “You know, I think Lando mentioned someone by that name when I stopped by the Fortune’s Son. He said he did pretty good at the Battle of Naboo, especially for someone as inexperienced as him.”
“Maybe he switched off his targeting computer to save the day.”
“Well, Luke’s Artoo unit was with him at that time, so maybe it was just good luck.” Wedge smiled. “Then again, as Luke tells me, there’s no such thing as luck.”
“Oh, there is,” Janson said. “I’ve just been cursed with the bad kind. At least when it comes to the dating department.”
“You said it yourself, Wes. You’re just too damn handsome for your own good.”
Janson punched him playfully in the shoulder. “Get out of here, flyboy. Hey, have you thought of a name for your squadron yet? Because I have a few suggestions if you need any.”
“No thanks. I don’t need a court-martial from Admiral Nantz for calling my unit Poodoo Squadron.”
Janson rubbed his chin. “Hey, now, that’s a good one. I wish I had thought of it.”
This time, it was Wedge’s turn to punch him in the shoulder. The Corellian then laughed as he shook his head. “No, I already have a name for them. Both Admiral Ackbar and Admiral Nantz told me that these guys are effectively nobodies; all washouts and green trainees. Nobody’s ever heard of them… and if all goes to plan, then no one ever will. We will be in and out before the Empire ever knows we’re there.”
“Ah. So like mice or something?”
“No.” Wedge grinned. “Like phantoms.”
* * *
Gallius Rax paced back and forth in his private quarters aboard the Ravager, his red cape sweeping the floor behind him with every step he took.
“Everything is in place,” he murmured—not just to himself but also for the sake of the sole other occupant in the room. “We have the Specter. Zsinj is sending the witch. The vessels have been prepared.”
He stopped to regard the dark figure standing in the room—or at least where he thought they were standing. He could not make them out in the darkness.
“You are certain that the ritual will work?” he said. “I don’t want any of this to be for nothing. The damage cannot be undone.”
“Do you doubt my knowledge, Admiral Rax?” the quiet yet foreboding voice of Darth Vorath came from the shadows.
Rax swallowed hard, shaking his head. “No, of course not. I just… we will only have one shot at this. If it fails—”
“If it fails, then you will not live to suffer the consequences. Take solace in that fact.”
Rax squared his shoulders. “But I will have failed my Emperor. I will suffer in Hell with that knowledge alone.”
“Then for your sake, see to it that you do not fail.”
Rax nodded resolutely, his heart still pounding as he thought about everything that could potentially go wrong. Then, he dropped down to one knee, bowing his head to the shadowed figure.
“Show me again,” he whispered. “I need… I need another taste of it.”
He heard the Sith Lord shift in the darkness. “As I have already told you, you do not have the potential to wield the dark side.”
“I know. But… it helps me focus. The pain. The anger. The fear. Please… it is all I ask for.”
“Very well.” A decrepit hand extended from the darkness. “Open your mind.”
Rax did as told, and in an instant the gates of Chaos opened and all of Hell flooded into his mind. Dark, twisted images assailed his eyes as pain coursed through his body like lightning. Dying, agonizing screams filled his ears, nearly deafening him with their cacophony of torture. It was the worst thing Rax had every experienced in his life.
And it was beautiful.
All he could do was laugh and cry as he writhed on the floor of his room, at the mercy of the ancient evil looming over him. It was almost nostalgic in a way, bringing him all the way back to that fateful day all those years ago, when he had been but a child.
The day he had met the phantom menace.
Soon. The was the only coherent thought running through his mind.
Soon.
TO BE CONTINUED IN:
THIS EVIL REBORN
No comments:
Post a Comment