Chapter 4 Maverick

Note: the character whose story the chapter focuses on will change depending on the name next to the chapter, For Example: a maverick chapter will be mainly about Cabur's Storyline and those linked to it. Chapters without a name will be when all the characters are in the story or when none of them are in it and are meant for world-building.

Seven years ago

19ABN (19 Years After the Battle of Naboo): Nelona (June): 22nd Benduday (Thursday)

6th Year of the Imperial Era

The V-wing shutters around me for just an instant as its thrusters beat the planet Mandalores last effort to hold us within its sickly pale atmosphere. Giving way to the constellation Ka'ra and the sixteen stars that make it up, silhouetted and shining against the eternal blackness of tra (Space), each one the physical manifestation of the great Mand'alors (sole rulers) from the past, the great makers and movers of all things Mandalorian, the legends that now sat at the table of Kad Ha'rangir god of destruction and they have their eyes on me now.

Touki Ordo (In Mando'a): <I don't care if none of you ever see me as a true Mandalorian, just watch, watch. I'll show all that I am worthy, starting by getting back in time.>

Twin ion engines roared behind me, throttle in one hand, the control stick in the other, even the tiniest hand movement made the nimble Interceptor bob and weave. My forward console flashes red, text scrolling across it.

Shadow Collective V-wing Astromech: Warning = Leaving atmosphere // No pilot suit detected // Alpha-3 Nimbus-class V-wing Interceptor = no onboard life-support // oxygen supply limited = thirty minutes // Recommend return to atmosphere.

Touki Ordo: Recommendation declined, I need your help getting to these coordinates fast. Please I can free you, no servitude without your approval, and same for memory wipes, we can give you tons of upgrades and care, you don't even need to stick around, you can take the V-wing, go wherever you want afterward.

Trying to plead to the droid's better nature or I guess it would be programming in this case. Over the comms comes the same voice as before.

Shadow Collective Crimson Leader: What the! Who is this?!! Identify yourself!!!

Touki Ordo: Who do you think? I'm the guy leaving you in the dust!

Switching the drive stick to cruise and I punch it. For but a brief moment all in sight bends and warps, stretched beyond recognition before snapping back to normal, blazing by the universe around me, lightyears turned to minutes. Asteroids and planets fly by, Mandalore becomes a spec of light behind me. There goes the jungle world Mandallia sixth world in the orbit of the star Mandalore. From the outside, I looked like a bright blue shooting star zipping across the cosmos. I'd just blown by the gas giant Bonagal when everything slows to a crawl, the unmistakable sound of the engines powering down. Finally coming to a complete stop, mere moments before reaching the Mythosaur Scale Asteroid field, lights and screen in the cockpit flicker and dim.

Touki Ordo: What! No, no, no, no not now!! I'm so close!!!

I begin frantically pushing buttons, flipping switches, almost putting my finger through the console's touchscreen trying anything to get the damn fighter moving again, when the Astromech chimes in.

Shadow Collective Astromech: Master has ordered that you be detained = sit quietly till they arrive

Touki Ordo: Oh come on, what about all I promised you!?

Shadow Collective Q7-521: Current pilot biometrics = do not match with those on record // Alpha-3 Nimbus-class V-wing Interceptor = property of Gardulla Besadii the elder // anti-theft protocols engaged // Q7-521 = will not be stolen.

Touki Ordo: Gardulla? Who the hell is… never mind? Come on Q7 if you're still in there I could really use your help here.

No response; his husk of a body just lies there lifeless in my arms, still plugged into the V-wing.

Shadow Collective Q7-521: Q7 = Knows you know I'm here // Q7 = does not understand.

Touki Ordo: Not you rust bucket, my astromech Q7, Q7-00. Come on bud wake up I need you.

The proximity alert rings, bright light shines on me as familiar droid fighters surround me. The light grows brighter and brighter becoming blinding, space, cockpit all swallowed up by the light, the deafening sound of thrusters.

Present-day

26ABN (26 Years After the Battle of Naboo): Zelona (January): Day Unknown 

13th Year of the Imperial Era

The blinding whiteout subsides, vision comes back into focus a trio of sentinel classes passes over my hiding spot, lights beaming off them, followed by a pair of Y-45 armored transports, the pod walkers they carried hang so low I could see the scuff marks on the bottom of their feet. The distinctive thunk of landing legs meeting the ground, the hiss of a ship depressurizing after it lands, omens foretelling I was about to get a lot of plastoid armored company. A massive blast of sand batters my cover as AT-DP's drops with a thundering boom, its towering twenty feet made it so that even Suwa's Sandcrawler was just a little bit shorter.

The whole area is cloaked in a shadowy fog of sand, between it and the night I was like a ghost, effortlessly sneaking by the walker's spindly legs, diving under one of the landing crafts, as I crawl beneath it I can hear movement through the hull above me. Just ahead I see the ship's front ramp drop, the unmistakable clunk of plastoid boots on metal. Even through sandy murk, I can make out the other two sentinels on either side of the one I'm under, bright light shining out of their now open maws, disgorging their complements of sandtroopers onto Tatooine.

Cabur: So many; I know I expected a lot coming for me, but actually seeing it, is something else, my flattered. 

The dust begins to settle, and I'm just beneath the landing ramp, close enough to see how many scratches the troopers have on their leg guards. The scout troopers I'd seen before swagger up to the sandtroopers as they come running off the ramp, dragging a full body bag behind them, ready to brag and belittle their fellow troopers. Is it so much to ask to meet scout troopers that aren't huttslimes (as!@#$%s), the sergeant's voice was loud, full of pride and arrogance.

Imperial Army Scout Trooper Sergeant: Sand troopers; figured they'd send these wannabes scouts. Hey, guy's looks like you get to clean up after us, again.

The last Trooper leaves the sentinel, but I hear someone inside still, it was different their footfalls aren't loud and clunky like troopers, more slow, soft, subtle, and controlled. I didn't need to feel the scouts bluster and confidence be replaced by fear and dread, I could see it, voices crack, shoulders slump, discipline fails. Whoever walked off that transport, just changed the area's whole atmosphere by their mere presence, I had to know who that is. Drawing my knife, using its mirror-like edge to pear around the other side of the ramp, without needing to poke my head out.

Cabur: Come on be an Admiral, come on Admiral.

My heart sank, can't make out too much detail, but I'd recognize the clean-cut white and black uniform of the Imperial Security Bureau (ISB) anywhere. His posh core worlder accent exuded superiority with every breath, every word, and mannerism calculated and chosen to emphasize that he is their better. Nose held high, hands behind his back, every step slow and methodical, never being anywhere but in front of or above those around him.

Cabur: They sent an ISB officer to apprehend me! I don't care if he's a Major or not, forget about being flattered, I'm insulted they think I'd only warrant some ISB errand boy. Didn't even send Deathtroopers to be his bodyguards, just a bunch of black dots, time to remind the Imps why I'm worth more than this.

No sooner did I crawl out from under the ramp, was I forced to dive right back into my hiding spot, as a quintuple of troopers emerged from the Major's personal Sentinel class. The blood-red marks on their white armor denoting them as incinerator troopers, there's only one reason they'd have them on Tatooine.

Cabur: I don't have a lot of time.

Throwing myself onto the ramp with one hand, well the imps are busy, my dark clocked form stood out like a sore thumb in the well-lit sterile white innards of the landing craft, but a quick turn, up some steps and I'm in the cockpit, right behind a pair of pore unsuspecting pilots, knife still drawn. 

Imperial Pilot Corps Transport Pilot 1: So how long do you think we'll be here?

Imperial Pilot Corps Transport Pilot 2: Don't know, ground team – 52307 confirmed Target: Lancer as KIA, so I doubt we'll be here too long before the major calls in a drop ship to carry all this poodoo (Sh!@) away.

Imperial Pilot Corps Transport Pilot 1: Good, damn sand gets everywhere, hate to spend too much time cleaning the old girl again am I right.

No response.

Imperial Pilot Corps Transport Pilot 1: Hey IDP: 45790311 you hear me?

Reaching over to his copilot, a simple nudge to get his attention, revealed red life fluids flowing freely from a small wound on the neck of his now limb body. Before he even realized what he was looking at, the tip of my blade found the back of his neck and poked out the other side, life drains from him. Placing two fingers on the flats of the blade, wiping away the blood as I pull it out, posing his body as if he were still at the controls. With a quick look out the viewport, I could see the many sandtroopers begin to part so the ISB major could face Suwa and her clan. Retracing my steps back out of the Sentinel, a shadow darts between two of the land crafts disappears up its boarding ramp second verse same as the first four dead pilots with no one the wiser. The major had just reached the front of his little army.

Cabur: Faster.

Calling on all my strength I became not even a blur as I zipped between the second and third Sentinels, not even bothering with going up to the cockpit myself, from the base of the steps. I reach out with both hands, fingers flexed as if coiling around something an image of the pilots necks form in my mind. In the cockpit above the Imperial Pilots suddenly found no air would leave their lungs and none would enter, intense pressure on their necks, they gasped and gargled for air but none came, till the black takes them. Alive but out of this fight I needed a least two pilots to survive for my plan to work.

Cabur: The ISB major is still talking with Suwa, good plenty of ti…

A vicious shot of pain ran through my whole body yet there was no injury. It was just like before on top of Suwa's Sandcrawler, head rang like a gong, everything's seizing up, vision blurry.

Cabur: No, Not now so close, I must dig deeper, draw on the Pain, the Fear, the Rage, your Mind, your Courage, Will….

For a brief moment the pain subsided, fatigue faded, vision became clear, only for it to snap back greater than before. Containing anguished screams with gritted teeth, doubling over, heart pounding in my skull, every breath more impossible than the last, a few drops of blood stain the Sentinel's shiny gray floor.

Cabur: Blood? But I thought I didn't have any open wounds.

And I didn't, I realized it was coming from my nose, a bloody nose, extreme pain, blacking out, and it happens every time I use… stars aligned and dots connected, how could I have not seen it, yet it made so much sense.

Cabur: Overuse! Of course; as if someone could survive orbital reentry without consequence. It must have taken everything I had just to stay alive, and I probably still haven't fully recovered, if I've even begun recovering at all. I didn't want to do this, but I have no choice.

Quickly pulling my datapad from its holster, flipping on its jammer no comms for them, jotting down instructions so Suwa will know what to do well I'm passed out. The sound of thunder, the unmistakable blam of an E-11 carbine, imperial standard issue, a single shot, the crackle pop of an impact. I was too late again, what pour soul was shuffled off this mortal coil because I was too weak. No more time to waste, not another pointless death on a count of my weakness no matter the cost!! Throwing away self-preservation, reaching out with everything I had left, at the minds of every last living imperial in the area, from the Tie pilots hovering over us to the two scout troopers I'd seen earlier, cracking their minds open like eggs.

Cabur: What hurts you the most? What brings you terror?? What makes your blood boil??? What intelligence do you possess???? What makes you brave????? What makes you're will unbendable??????

"If you do not have what you need, take it from those who do, but don't deserve to have it." Their wills are laughable, minds weak, plenty of pain and rage, even some with true courage, but it's all smothered beneath an endless ocean of fear. As expected it's the only thing the Empire uses to motivate their people, good for me and is about to be very bad for them. Drinking of that sea like a thirsty god, taking in their worst fears, their worries, and all that they hide in their mind's darkest corners. Make them focus on them, relive them over and over again, like a superconductive loop going round and round, make them remember their fears, make them live rent-free in their heads, grow stronger off their horrors, and repeat.

The sentinels interior dims, light fades, and all color around me drains away, replaced by a void darker than any black hole woven from the terror of which I feasted on, it shifts and crawls its way up my body like a swarm of insects, forming an inky black amorphous mass around me, a sickening dark blob. Peeling back like a curtain revealing the walls of the landing craft behind it, the pain did not fade but rather my body forgot it was suffering. Nightmares and horrors danced in my head like butterflies, every wing beat I lived the terrors and insecurities of those I'd drunk from, they try to threaten and woo to have their way with my mind, to blot out all other thoughts, overwhelm me, millions of little pinpricks up and down my skin, as if the swarm had sunk its fangs in, to consume me.

Cabur: Focus; Keep focused, mindless fear is useless to everyone, remember the goal, remember why your here, give the fear purpose, give it reason, channel it like a bolt from a blaster.

The wing beats cease, foreign horrors vanish, becoming nothing but fuel for my own. A burning world, a people suffering, a family scattered on the solar winds. A deep controlled breath, the pinpricks are no more, the dark mass stabilizes, becoming more not unlike a shell, like armor than an amorphous blob of insects, no thicker than paper yet stronger than steel and as flexible as water. Smokey blackness billows off me, power courses through me, like fire in my veins and lightning in my synapsis, I felt lighter than air and like the whole world bends to my whim.

Cabur: Yes!; this will do. Must.. act… quickly…. before it fades….. or more likely... overwhelms me.

Two bounds, the first launched me from the maw of the Sentinel like a bullet out its barrel, landing in the Tatooine Dunes, without skipping a beat the second bound took me far and over the head of the mob of Stormtroopers, standing between me and Suwa's clan. My body clocked in fears shadow vanishes when it hits the night sky, fading away among ether (space) and stars, seemingly dropping out of thin air into the gap which separated Jawa from Imperial, starring down the barrel of a flamethrower in the hands of one of the Imperial incinerator troopers, a stalwart barricade made of fear, shadow, and flesh, standing tall between the innocent and a fiery death. Everything was so slow, the whirlwind of sand grains kicked by the Tie fighter's repulsors now rose and fell like gentle leaves on a breeze, the flamethrower's tiny pilot light swayed back and forth, a single drop of sweat hung from the ISB Major's brow.

Raising my hand against the Imperials before they could suck another breath, a hundred Stormtroopers clatter, and clunk as they domino into one another. Turning to face Suwa, expecting her to need reminding to get her people away from the action, only to see Suwa leading her clan up the ramp back into her Sandcrawler, we exchange knowing nods, I have kept my promise to her, they seal themselves in. At that moment the flamethrowers fuel tanks detonates I throw my hands into the air, the cumulative effect of the two causes a dust cloud so thick it blacked out any remaining light, within even five feet in front of an imperial I was invisible, but I can see them, moving freely without a care, my step was silent, my strikes went unheard, my kills unseen unless I wanted them to be. Use theatricality and deception, become more than just a man in their minds, become an unstoppable army, become a terrible thought, become a demon that feeds on their souls, yet you are only one man.

Three shots from my Werda holdout pistol, three kills, one for each TIE fighter pilot, some good luck; one crashed into an AT-DP on its way down. A flick of the wrist and blurry sightings led to friendly fire, swift slashes and silent stabs brought down one trooper after the other, their comrades pulled screaming into darkness before their very eyes. I could feel their morale slipping with every second, the armor of discipline cracking, sensing the chink in it, the weak link in the chainmail, The Major; break him, break his men, first need to take out the big gun. Rocketing out of the smoke like I was launched by a cannon, trailing smoke as I go, the pod walker's spotlight desperately tried to track me but I wouldn't let it, staying just ahead never letting the light touch me. The pilot's voice boomed for miles from the defense pod's load speaker.

Imperial Army AT-DP Driver: You stop in the name of the Empire!!!

Spoiler I didn't; no second warning. The towering walker's massive ball turret opened up, shots explode like artillery leaving plumes of scattered sand and burning smoke. Only getting off two shots before I was on it, a hand on my sword as energy builds around and within it, a push of the thumb it's released, a flash of steel, the whistle of air as its severed and the ting of the guard hitting the mouth of the scabbard as it returns. There I stood strait and motionless, hands at my side, unafraid of the towering death walker just behind me, its servomotors roar as it raises its left leg, but as the walker puts it back down, there was no foot to land on. Stumbling, teetering, it's counter-balance and gyroscope systems couldn't take, falling was inevitable, but where no one knew, thrusting my open palm as if to strike the toppling mech, yet many a foot lay between it and I.

Cabur: Just giving you a push in the right direction!

As if a great beast had come and shoved the mechanical menace, it tipped and timbered over. The panicked screams of its crew, as it falls into the smoke like a hammer, a dozen imperial lives snuffed out by its impact, yet I still sense the Majors life burning like a dark flame amongst the sands, I feel his fear and his panic building like a volcano just about to burst, I feel… a breeze?? The black shell was pockmarked with thin spots, skin showing in areas; it was fading faster than I'd thought. Big guns down and they know it, no more mucking about, time to finish this up and break these fools.

Focusing in on the life signs within the rapidly fading sandscreen, launching back in faster than I'd left, crushing a Stormtrooper beneath me on landing. Still over fifty left too many for what I require but not for long. Not even caring about subtlety anymore throwing myself into the flow of battle a vicious ballet of death taking me from one Imperial to the next, every cut bled, every strike bone breaking, shattered bits of plastoid flew like shrapnel, bodies ragdoll through the air, didn't matter if they saw me coming, from feet to centimeters instantly, torsos rolls off their hips. Pulling a trooper screaming into the dark, I lock eyes with the ISB major removing his face from the dirt, the unmistakable look of recognition, he knew what was happening, who he was looking at. The briefest of moments, I could almost see the dots connecting, hear the chains of discipline snapping, and feel the volcano of panic erupt.

ISB Major: CABUR!!!! He's here!!!!! Shoot him, shoot him!!!!!!

And the boot has dropped. I no longer needed to perpetuate their fears for them, for their minds have been consumed by them, what was left of his men fell apart at the seams. Swallowed up by paranoia brother turned on brother, plastoid clattered and cuckled, vibrating dura steel blades sinking deep, stun-batons crackle and fry, trigger fingers down spraying crimson plasma wildly in every direction, screaming madness, jabbering nonsense. Stand back to take it all in, chaos, madness, murder and all I could think was, what the hell have I done?

Cabur: I know I said I'd break them, but in my haste to finish the battle, I think I went overboard again. Forget about culling their numbers, I have to worry about saving enough of them for my plan!!

Cabur: No your two can't cut open each other's throats on the first date! "whack, whack" Hey you with the crackle stick, he's well done enough as it is!! "whack" Naughty children no fighting!!! "Whack, whack, whack" Trigger discipline man, trigger discipline!!! "Whack"

Cabur: Let's see one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, just need four more, easy enough there's five of them right over… Grenade!!!!

Where there were once five imps, now was a thundering boom and short gory shower. To my horror the major was caught up in it, lost sight of him after the blast. A wave of my hand blasted the remnants of the dust cloud away, standing at the origin point of the grenade not ten feet from me, was a single Stormtrooper with a black dot on his helmet, arm still stretched after the throw, like time had stopped. Our gazes meet, what he saw in my eyes, oh if looks could kill he'd have died a thousand deaths.

Cabur: I needed them!!!!!

  Even in his maddened state he knew, he'd Kriffed (F@#$%^) up, appearing behind the trooper before he could blink.

Cabur: NO THROWING GRENADES IN THE HOUSE!!!!!!!!!! "WHACK"

The Dust finally settled, surrounding me was a field of horrors, metal gore, fire, smoke and the dawning thought that I was responsible for this, again; the echoes of their pain and fear linger like a fog, abstract dread, and misery pervade every inch of the battlefield. Dead silence hung in the air, save for the crackle of flame that lit my figure, the black shell had faded significantly, barely a quarter was left. I didn't have the time or strength to save even one of the less wound IMPs, it's what I get for letting myself slip so deep into the battle, what am I going to do now?

That's when I heard it drifting gently on the wind, beyond the crackle and rustle of flame, the melodious sound of movement and hushed voices. Just past the smoking wreckage of pod walkers and tie fighters, were two very familiar scout troopers, dragging an ISB officer by the shoulder straps. Strange I sense that their morale has broken, but their wits are about them, unlike the others who had been consumed by nightmares, Impressive; Suddenly the Major stirs from his stupor, thrashing violently till the scouts release the man, helping him to his feet. Bashing his way through them, no doubt they thought he'd be grateful or it was their duty to save a superior officer, too bad even at their best most Imp officers, especially ISB ones, will happily throw their troops into the meat grinder to save themselves.

TKS-3664: You bastard, wait for us!

ISB Officer: Why the hell should I? We have a million more just like you and we can get a million more after them. I'm the only one who's important here; now be good cannon folder and die nobly defending a vital Imperial asset, while I return to the fleet and have this whole area turned into molten glass from orbit.

Cabur: Man what a jerk.

Imperial Army Scout Troopers: What??

Last words before their heads are smacked together, bodies crumple to the ground. I feel it as all hope leaves the major as he discovers what became of his pilots, he didn't last long after that.

Present-day

26ABN (26 Years After the Battle of Naboo): Zelona (January): Day Unknown 

13th Year of the Imperial Era 

High in orbit over Tatooine, a few hours after the Imperials arrived at Suwa's sand crawler

A knock at the door

Unknown Imperial: Grand moff Ravik, sir your shuttle is ready to depart.

Imperial Grand Moff Ravik: Very good captain I'll be out in a moment.

Unknown Imperial Captain: Yes sir.

Being a Grand Moff of the Galactic Empire certainly had its privileges, A personal star destroyer "The Assassin" acting as his own castle in the stars, more credits than he knew what to do with, an entire over sector all to himself, thousands of star systems with millions of planets to do with as he pleased. Out the viewport of his personal quarters the only room on the ship with such a view, was one such world, an ugly thing no matter what angle one looks at it. Only thing it's good for is spice and being one of the most remote parts of the galaxy, perfect for activities you don't want others to know about. But now all because of one dammed rebel scum it's all at risk. Thousands of ships now orbit Tatooine and millions of imperial forces deposited onto its surface many of them are the best the Empire has, they stay any longer, especially him, it won't be long before someone starts noticing things, things that Ravik would like to remain unnoticed. The sooner he gets this done the sooner they all go back to doing whatever it was they were doing before, he didn't care just so long as they weren't here, then he can return to Ryloth and his favorite Twi'lek girls with no one the wiser.

A quick once over of his grey officer's uniform in the mirror, double Cheick the battledress that's over it, weapon at his side, ready to get this over with. There was one other perk to being a Grand Moff, with a push of a button and hiss the doors are thrown wide, beyond them stood a magnificent sight, they resembled that of Stormtroopers but sleeker more advanced, painted a deep black with dazzling gold markings, cape flowing behind them, an electrostaff in one hand and a holstered blaster in the other. Nova Guards AKA Imperial Honor guards or even Nova Troopers one step down from the imperial guard itself, only the most elite in the Imperial military even get a chance to undergo the extreme training required to become one. Only the highest ranks among officers have even one Nova Guard in their personal retinue and Grand Moff Ravik had ten. Four here, two in the hanger, and four more along the way.

Imperial Grand Moff Ravik: Lead the way, captain.

Imperial Nova Guard Captain: Yes sir.

He held up two fingers to the side of his helmet.

Imperial Nova Guard Captain Comlink: Team one to all teams; the Grand Moff is on the move, repeat the Grand Moff is on the move, how copy?

Imperial Nova Guard Team 2 Leader Comlink: Team two to team one, route is clear, repeat route is clear, over.

Imperial Nova Guard Team 3 Leader Comlink: Team three to team one, hanger secure, retinue in position, and shuttles fueled, over.

Imperial Nova Guard Captain Comlink: Team one copies two and three, on our way to team two out.

Imperial Nova Guard Captain: This way sir

Moving swiftly through the Assassin's sterile, grey and white hallways having been cleared of all personnel by the Moff's Novas before he left his quarters, being surrounded on all sides by his guards, always made Ravik feel both invincible and at his most vulnerable. More than their skill and experience, Nova Guards require one thing more than any other, loyalty; and that's the problem cause their not loyal to him or even to the empire. Each and every one of them wishes to ascend to the Imperial Guard one day, for that they must be absolutely loyal to one man and that man alone, the Emperor himself. Anyone of them would happily turn him in for even the tiniest infraction if it will make that happen faster, for this reason, no officer would be stupid enough to trust them fully or consider them actually a part of their personal retinue. It wouldn't be long before they met up with Team Two, the four Nova troopers falling in with the group one by one as we met them. All without breaking their stride, the crew slowly leave rooms and returned to their duties behind them as they went.

The Assassin's main hanger massive in its scoop, normally the busiest and most bustling area on any vessel that had one, ships landing and taking off, the deck crew always in a rush to complete something, pilots and trooper patrols coming and going. Now sat almost completely empty and silent, save for a single lambda class shuttle its glossy white hull and tall raised trident wings silhouetted against the shimmering blue forcefield that kept air in and vacuum out. At the foot of the lambda's boarding ramp stood eleven officers in battle dress each wearing different colored uniforms standing for the varying branches they serve in. Olive green for Army, grey for Navy, black for Pilot Corps, red for Imperial Intelligence, white and black for the ISB and blue-grey for the Imperial Press Corps (IPC).

These were Grand Moff Raviks true retinue two from every branch yet one of the ISB officers was missing. All of them lined up in formation chins up, back straight, stance strong, and hands behind their backs. The last two members of Raviks Nova Guard stood between them and the shuttle, they all salute as the Grand Moff passes by, following him up the ramp into the shuttle his guards going before even the pilots with the Moff's true retinue bring up the rear. Ramps up, the shuttle's twin ion engines scream to life, lifting off the hanger floor before tucking its landing legs away, unfurling its wings, and rocketing down towards Tatooine, a pair of TIE fighters come from secondary hangers to escort it. Inside the lambda, most of the officers sat in the passenger compartment with the Nova guards, well the Grand Moff sits in the cockpit with the pilots and two navy officers a shut door between them.

Imperial Navy Officer 1: The Grand Admiral's getting antsy.

Imperial Navy Officer 2: And the antsier he gets the harder it's getting to keep him from places he's unwanted.

Imperial Pilot Corps Officer 1: I heard from a guy on his flagship that he's toyed with the idea of just BaseDeltaZeroing all of Tatooine.

Imperial Pilot Corps Officer 2: He can't; the Imperial Senate would go berserk and if not them then the Hutts.

Imperial Grand Moff Ravik: Oh he can, the Senate hardly has any power left, the most they're good for now is organizing relief efforts and they can barely do that anymore. As for the Hutts they're not as all-powerful as some would have you believe, they rear their poodo (sh!@) ugly faces out of their muck we'll crush them.

Imperial Imperial Navy Officer 2: Even so we can't just let him do it, what of Project: Rouge? Or Project Whiteout?? We've put too much into them, risked too much, for it all to go to waste because of some fat, spice-addled disgrace!

Imperial Grand Moff Ravik: And we won't let that happen, the body's been found, the areas secure once we give Caburs head to Takel, this will all be a bad memory soon and we'll have new medals on our walls to boot.

Imperial Navy Officer 1: If you say so Moff Ravik.

Imperial Pilot Corps Officer 2: Come on guys think positive, we deliver one guy's head, the fleet leaves, no BaseDeltaZero, everything stays under wraps, that Schutta (B!@#) is already dead too, they just need to do a little more testing, and we will blow by Grand Moff Tarkin so fast he won't even know what happened.

Imperial Grand Moff Ravik: Exactly take a page from Major Myn Pellian everything's going to be fine.

Imperial Pilot Corps Officer 1: Entering Tatooine's atmosphere in five.