Questions and Interrogations: Stuck in the Middle with You

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Continued from here (http://sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?t=15177)

The Rebel Frigate Pride of Taris one hour later

He moved the unlit cigar from one corner of his mouth to th'other, staring through the glass window into the dimly lit room. He never did figure out why all interrogation rooms had t'look like this...all dim, grim, and dark. He supposed it was t'give the look of 'no hope' but almost everyone could find something they could hope upon...whether th'memory of a girl, the light above looking like some sorta sunset, or how th'face of the interrogator looked like some sorta puppet from a holo-vid.

His brown eyes then moved from the room, where the captured Imperial Officer sat, to the holo-vid on the desk in front of him.

It was from cargo hold within The Outbound Flight's dock orbitting Yaga Minor. The display was rather mundane, the rows of blue and red cargo containers stretching out beyond the range of the holo-camera. What was different was the stack of Imperial bodies in the center of th'room, in a pyramid form, serving as almost a warning that the Rebellion knew the Empire was there.

"That was a bit grusome don't ya think?" The blonde-haired man next to him said as he stared at the display.

Aurelias Kazaar gave a snort and crossed his arms over his black jacketted torso.

It wasn't the most grusome he'd been...when he'd rescued one tiny girl from the hands of Transdoshan slavers, he'd removed all of their serpentine heads and sent 'em to their bosses as a warning.

Kazaar's boss at the time, Gorgja the Hutt, hadn't liked it but he still paid him well.

He'd taken a sort of dark pleasure in leavin' the Imperial bodies in the stack, just like he'd taken pleasure in the mission on Felucia and the destruction to the Imperial Command structure he'd left there.

His fellow agent, Estelle Russard, still wasn't too happy about the deaths on Yaga Minor but 'The Kid' would get over it...at some point.

The former bounty hunter turned his attention back to holo, his face going dark as he watched the figure of a man emerge from behind the pile.

He was tall and cloaked in all black, but the cloak was trimmed with a broad line of crimson, giving it an almost ceremonial look. The hood was solid black but the face beneath it was odd in color...gray and stony, like it was carved from some sort of rock and given life. It was an unyielding face, smooth and grim.

But it was the orange-bladed lightsaber in his gloved hand which gave both Rebels viewing it pause. The figure then disappeared from view as it apparantly went t'check on the rest of the dock.

Frack.

A Force User...probably Sith or Dark Jedi or whatever the hell they were called.

First it was a 'mysterious shipment' Mirko Spendrim had discovered on Spindrift...then a Grand Admiral...now a fracking Force User. This only gettin' better 'n better.

"You ask our Imperial who it is?" Kazaar's gravely voice was full of disgust as it slid through the air of the viewing room.

"Yeah...all he's said is something about War...the grave...and death," his companion shook his head, "Spendrim said it sounded familiar from somewhere, but wasn't sure."

"Spenny thinks everything sounds familiar," Kazaar gave a smirk and a snort, "Run a check on it...see what we can find. He try t'give ya a blanket again?"

A tight smile, "Yeah and I took it."

The look on Kazaar's face was priceless, "Crix, why in th'blue nerf didja do that? That'll only encourage that yammerin' bastich t'offer me one."

The smile on Crix's face lightened a bit, "Why do you think I took it, Kazaar?"

The Rebel Agent rolled his brown eyes and the cigar moved in his mouth.

"Go take that info to 'The Bossman' and let 'im know what's up. I'm sure he'll love t'know whoever this 'Grand Admiral' is he's gotta FU (Force User) working for him.

"What've you put 'im through?" he asked nodding towards the Imperial Captain.

"Sensory deprivation, plus no food or water. It's worked for the most part, but all he's saying is his name and his serial number. The usual."

The smile on Kazaar's face was dark, "Belargic wants me t'have...'a chat' with our 'Imperial Guest'."

"You'll need to leave your blasters here. You know the rules."

A sigh came from Kazaar's mouth and he placed the silver-Bryar blasters he'd named, 'The Twins' on the table next to Crix.

Crix nodded, then patted Kazaar on the back, "Good to see you again, Aurelias. I'll let Belargic know about the FU before I head out.

Kazaar strode towards the gray sliding door, pausing only a moment before entering the darkened room. The only reason he hadn't been questioning his prisoner was he was getting the blonde dye outta his hair. It'd looked ridiculous t'begin with and he'd been happy to be rid of it.

Coulda been worse, he figured...coulda been the pink dye he had t'use on that one mission t'Fondor. That'd taken a week t'get out.

The Rebel who'd been questioning 'Captain Hiram Reklar', as he'd given his name as, nodded to the Rebel Agent as he exited the room.

Reklar's hands were cuffed behind his back and he was no longer wearing his Imperial Uniform. Instead an ill-fitting orange jumpsuit draped over his body. His blonde-hair was still mussed but the rat-like mustache was gone (his nose was even more bulbous now Kazaar noted).

His eyes, though, were still dead and empty.

"You won't get anything from me the others didn't get," Reklar's Basic was accented and he stared straight forward.

"All ready got one thing," Kazaar smirked, "You t'talk before I even asked a question."

He stood just off to the side of the Imperial officer, the cigar still unlit, as if he were sizing him up. Finally, he moved a gloved hand to his pocket and pulling out his black butane lighter. He raised the flame to the cigar and the flavor filled the room.

Reklar's tone was belligerant, "Do you plan on burning me with that?"

Kazaar stared down at the Imperial, his eyes flashing, "What...'n ruin this cigar? Whatta ya nuts?"

The expression on Kazaar's face turned deadly as he leaned forward so the two faces were close to each other.

"Ya know what the problem with Imperials are," smoke wafted into Reklar's face, "Ya 'de-humanize' the interrogation process...leaving it to ya black droids those needles they got. I suppose it makes your conscience clear but you're all a buncha hypocrites."

Kazaar's hands shot out, grasping the sides of the Imperial's face. He squeezed it like he would a pimple, his thumbs digging into the corner of the man's eyes.

A yelp came from the Imperial and Kazaar let go.

"Who's the shipment going to Reklar?"

The voice was slightly defiant, "I don't know."

Kazaar grabbed his head again and *squeezed* again.

This time...the yelp was louder.

And Kazaar's ears relished it all.

[Estelle Russard]

One door opened and another closed.

As Estelle entered the anteroom where Crix was still seated, she glimpsed Kazaar breifly as he disappeared behind the sliding grey door and into the interogation room within.

A moment later, the grey door slid open once again as the previous interrogating officer stepped out, signed off on the roster sheet infront of Crix, and left.

Crix had greeted her in the silent manner of a nod and gestured for her, too, to 'clock in' her presence, and Estelle bent obediently to pen her name onto the slate.

"I thought the Director was to be here" Crix queried.

"He is on his way" her pen scratched on the paper's surface, "I expect him any moment. Have we learnt anything new?" Her brown eyes flicked up to look into the one-way glass. Kazaar had lit his cigar.

"Just this" Crix brought up the images of the robed man in the cargo hold, lightsaber in hand, onto the display screen. Estelle's sharp intake of breath was much the reaction the young officer had expected. It was a bit of a shock, even he had to admit. "Spooky aint it"

Estelle nodded, almost mesmerized by the mystery figure. She had seen Jedi before. Well, a Jedi. Oriadin. He was a Master Jedi and a dear personal friend. And he most certainly did not evoke the dread which she was now feeling, even through such a detatched encounter as was the holo-feed. "A Sith?"

"Maybe" Crix answered, "Or Dark Jedi - a difference which is lost on me, to tall ya the truth. They both are Darkside aint they?"

Estelle shrugged. She didn't know either. It would be a good question to ask Oriadin when next she saw him. "Any idea who he is, or why he is even there?"

Crix shook his head. Again the answers were not yet known. "That's why our cowboy's in there" he said, nodding to Aurelias. He gave Estelle a confident wink, "We'll know soon enough."

The conversation ended there as movement within the interogation room drew both their attention.

Kazaar was going to work.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

"I still don't know!" Reklar's voice screeched as Kazaar pressed his thumbs into the Imperial's dead eyes once more. It was his third time t'do this...digging his fingers just deep enough to shoot needles up into th'eyes of his victim. It was also one of his favorite ways t'start an 'interrogation'...it showed he 'meant business' and wouldn't be taken f'granted.

And it also got a little blood flowing too...in more ways than one.

Kazaar released his grip on the bony face, his gloved hands briefly running down Reklar's cheekbones. Two streaks of blood followed, just enough for the Imperial t'get a scent of his own blood.

"I could keep squeezin' ya know," his gutteral voice said, "Keep digging m'hands into your skull...take ya sight, then that artery behind 'em. But I ain't..."

A puff from the cigar.

"I ain't killing ya yet," he chuckled wiping the blood on the man's forehead.

He was almost surprised Reklar hadn't recognized him as the guy who caught 'im. But he figured it might be 'cause the guy was still 'in shock' at actually being captured. No one ever thinks they'll ever be captured...it's always a possibility but when ya work for 'The Evil Empire' (even if the Emperor was dead) capture was never thought of. The Rebels were just gnats t'be swatted away.

Kazaar was gonna prove otherwise.

He moved behind the Imperial Captain, leaning up against the side of his face, "We're gonna play a game...something I used t'play when I was in the Rebel Army.

"Don't try t'escape."

The former bounty hunter reached down to Reklar's hands, freeing the left one from the binders.

In a flash the Imperial Captain moved, the wooden table clattering to the floor, as he tried t'spin from the chair.

Kazaar was hoping he'd be this stupid. He'd all ready refastened the binders t'the back of the chair. As Reklar spun away, his right hand remained where it was and his stumbled briefly.

The Rebel Agent was on him instantly, his booted foot slamming into the man's face, sending him reeling to the durasteel floor.

Kazaar bent to his knees and laughed.

"You Imps're all th'same..." he kept chuckling, low and smooth, "If ya try that again...lemme show ya something."

Then with a *snap* Kazaar broke Reklar's left shoulder.

Reklar screamed and Kazaar laughed again.

"Hahahahahahaha...."

A sigh.

"Who's th'shipment for? Who's the Grand Admiral it was meant for?"

[Estelle Russard]

Crix was chuckling softly to himself as Reklar took Kazaar's bait and clattered to a heap on the floor. An appreciative "oooh, that's gotta hurt" failed to rouse a response from Russard, and Crix turned to see if she was watching the same show that he was.

Her stoic face was evidence that she was, but she was not as entertained as he. In fact, she had gone very still and very, very quiet. Her fingers curled round the edge of the desk and he could see the whiteness of her knuckles. Soft, compassionate brown eyes looked straight ahead and Crix realised she hadn't heard him at all. Her first interrogation, obviously. He shrugged inwardly. She'd find it amusing one day, just like he had. Sooner or later, you realised who exactly was being beat in that little grey room and words like "compassion" no longer ever came to mind. These damn Imperials deserved everything they got. And more.


She'd feel this way, too, one day.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

He pressed just a bit on the shoulders, stretching his ears so he could heard the sound of bone grinding against each other.

Reklar screamed, the pain shooting through his body. This wasn't supposed to be like this. These were Rebels...they treated their prisoners as well as possible...tried to convince them to join their cause.

This...this was...

His thoughts were interrupted as Kazaar pulled him up by his orange collar.

Their eyes met, Kazaar's brown ones flashing with fire, Reklar's grey one still dead as anything. But there was something, the Rebel thought he may've seen but he couldn't be certain.

Fear.

"I-I can't tell you!" Reklar whispered, "Th-they'll kill me!"

Kazaar blew smoke in his face and laughed, before setting him back into the wooden chair.

"Stay there!" he ordered and Reklar wasn't about to disobey him.

Kazaar set the table back up, his gloved left hand tapping the wood lightly.

"Ya shouldn't've lied to me," he smirked, "Of course...it might've not mattered."

He leaned forward, staring at the Imperial again, "So now ya say that they'll kill ya...Who's 'they'?"

No answer.

"Who. Are. They?"

Still no answer.

"Fine...that game we were gonna play before ya interrupted me," Kazaar walked behind the Imperial, his hand on his shoulders.

"We're gonna play it now," the former bounty hunter picked the man's left arm and placed it on the table, "Gotta steady that hand of yours though...since it seems a bit...itchy."

*SLAM*

The vibroblade pierced the Imperial's hand with a *THUNK* going deep into the table beneath it. Reklar screamed again and in reflex tried t'pull his arm back, but the broken shoulder wouldn't let him and the vibroblade held.

"Shouldn't've done that Rekky," a smirk, "Only increases th'pain...

"Ya ready t'talk yet?"

Nothing.

"Didn't think so."

[Estelle Russard]

"This cant be healthy" murmered Estelle absently.

Crix guffawed at her comment, "damn straight"

But she had not spoken for his benefit, she'd been thinking aloud.

Kazaar was already messed up as it was. She was hoping to speak to Dasquian about this very concern when he arrived today. But giving Aurelias free reign under such circumstances was machievallien to say the least. It cant possibly be good.

Estelle understood the need for getting information, and getting it fast. But weren't there drugs for that? What she was seeing now put her stomach in knots, not only for the prisoner -- such brutal treatment. But for Aurelias.

This can not be healthy.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

"Now...hahahahaha," Kazaar laughed as he pulled from his belt another vibroblade from his belt. This one was a bit shorter than the one he'd stuck, in Reklar's hand.

"This game we're gonna play, is something I used t'play in the Army."

He leaned over the Imperial, using the blade to spread his fingers a bit.

"What ya do," Kazaar's voice was harsh, "Is move the vibroblade in between the fingers.

"Just."

*Thunk*

"Like."

*Thunk*

"This."

*Thunk*

"Once ya make one pass, ya start moving a bit faster," the Rebel Torturer explained, the vibroblade passing over the Imperial's fingers a bit quicker now.

This was probably the favorite bit of his interrogation, the part where he got t'actually hurt an Imperial...to take his time t'relish it. It'd tire him out but he'd still enjoy it...he could get 'bloody' then cover it by explaining th'guy tried to escape. The vibroblade damage could be covered by the fact Kazaar wasn't allowed t'have his blasters in the room.

But then he didn't need 'The Twins' t'be deadly.

"Ya gotta be careful though," the smirk was large and ugly, "If ya aren't...ya could accidently..."

*THUNK!*

"AUGH!" Reklar screamed as the vibroblade pierced his ring finger just below the knuckle. Blood spurted from the wound and Kazaar shrugged.

"Cut yaself."

He chuckled again, "Who's the shipment for."

Reklar gasped, "A...a gr-grand ad-miral...."

"No...really?" Kazaar laughed, "I thought it was f'the Emperor..."

There was silence as Reklar whimpered again, trying t'gather his thoughts.

This wasn't supposed to happen, the Imperial thought, as Kazaar started to pass the vibroblade over his hand again.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

[Estelle Russard]

Estelle had folded her arms now in an effort to steel herself against what she was seeing. This was cruel and she wasn't altogether conviced it was needful. She knew there were drugs to make people give up information - truth serums or something they were called. Torture was not the only method to get the answers they needed and she was apalled that this was being condoned.

"Does the Director know whats taking place here?" she demanded of Crix, who mumbled something noncomittal.

"How much further is Kazaar going to go with this?"

An unconcerned shrug from Crix, "Who cares?"

"Who--what? I care. We are the good guys, in case you forgot, Crix" Estelle moved toward the sliding grey door. She would put an end to this.

Crix intercepted her, gingerly inserting himself between her and her objective. "You cant go in there, Russard. You dont got clearance"

"I dont got clearance? What are you talking about, let me through!"

"Cant do it Russard."

More like he wont do it. Estelle saw the unbending posture of her rebel counterpart. Reklar screamed again.

"You've got to stop him, Crix. This is wrong"

It was Crix who folded his arms now. Obstinate. He dont "got" to do anything.
"Says who, Russard? Says who."

The screams from the other side of the room hit a higher pitch.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar pressed two of his fingers against his left temple, scratching just next to his black sideburn.

There was blood on the table, red and starting to cover the wooden structure. Reklar's hand was cut bad, the former bounty hunter having cut three fingers while passing his vibroblade over the Imperial's hand (this didn't even count the blood coming from the wound made by the vibroblade still in the man's hand).

"P-pl-please..." Reklar stammered, his eyes wet, "H-he'll k-kill me..."

"Who?" Kazaar demanded as he crossed his arms. He needed a name. Preferably the name of a Grand Admiral.

"Th-the D-dark J-jedi..." then he whispered something which couldn't be heard.

This was all information the Rebellion all ready had. There was a Dark Jedi out there who was an agent of the Empire. Big whup...that didn't matter.

What they needed was a name. The list of Imperial Grand Admiral's was incomplete...several had been killed by Grand Admiral Desaria during an attempted insurrection. It was wondered if the Empire was even going to name a replacement but the discovery of the uniform in the Yaga Minor Shipment said otherwise.

And Kazaar needed that name.

"I don't care 'bout the Force User, Rekky," his voice was a half-snarl, "I care 'bout who his masters are..."

The Imperial stared up at Kazaar, his dead grey eyes trying to focus in on his torturer.

"Y-you...were at Yaga...w-why?"

Kazaar snorted, "Cause of ya bosses...that shipment of yours, remember? I gotta find out who it's goin' to...

"You gonna tell me? "Cause I can do this dance all night," a sadistic smile.

"How's the hand?"

The dead eyes stared up at him and a look of contempt appeared on the Imperial's face.

"H-how do y-you think it feels...you bastard."

Kazaar laughed, "That's funny...you're funny, Rekky, ya know that? That Imperial training of yours...not giving me what I want. So sad, ya know?"

The Rebel Agent moved over to the chair opposite Reklar and sat down.

"But I gotta secret, lemme tell ya," he leaned forward, his lips next to Reklar's ears.

"I'm glad you're not tellin' me..." he whispered, "Cause the longer ya take...the more pleasure I get from this."

Kazaar chuckled again, resting back on the seat.

Then he smacked the Imperial in the face with his fist. Reklar's face rocked back and blood came from his mouth.

"I...I...red...blue....eyes...." The Imperial Captain muttered, trying to find something...anything t'get this to stop.

"Th-they....have...red...n...blue...eyes," the microphones in the room just caught his words.

"Who?" Kazaar asked, "The Grand Admiral?"

Reklar barely nodded.

Finally, Kazaar thought. Although...anyone could have those eyes.

'Least they got somewhere.

Kazaar stroked his chin, feeling the rough stubble. Then, without further thought, he pulled out a small holdout blaster from his ankle and shot Reklar's hand twice with a stun blast effectively deadening it.

In the booth, Crix's eyes widened as he saw Kazaar shoot the prisoner.

"Frack," he uttered, shaking his head.

Technically, Kazaar wasn't supposed to have a holdout blaster in there...it was to prevent prisoners from grabbing control over it and shooting someone (although the way Kazaar was treating this 'questioning'...)

He cursed aloud again.

This was getting intense.

In the room, the Imperial couldn't feel his left hand. He could still feel his shoulder, but not his hand.

It was...numb...senseless....

Kazaar rose from his seat, tossing the holdout blaster across the small room. His gloved hand pressed against Reklar's smooth chin, raising it.

"You have two eyes...two nostrils...and two ears....

"Ya keep this up...ya won't have much of each," he smirked.

"What's it gonna be?"

[Estelle Russard]

She wasn't sure which was the more disturbing - the torture itself, or the fact Kazaar took such pleasure in it. This couldnt possibly be what the Director had in mind for Aurelias to do when he offered him the task of questioning Reklar, could it?

Estelle felt sick at the thought.

True, she was a newbie - naive even, some might say. Hard times called for hard measures -- she'd heard that line of thinking many a time, even from her own father. But this was torture. It went against her personal ethics. Outside the walls of the Alliance, she would never have stood for it. Never have stood idly by while another person was brutalized in such a fashion. And Kazaar...relishing his role..
Estelle felt nauseaus. Where the heck was the Director?

"Frack" Crix muttered as Kazaar shot the prisoner, and Estelle chose that moment to try to push passed him, "Kazaar could kill him" she said alarmed.


Distracted as Crix had been, he still caught Russard and would not let her through. They locked eyes momentarily, and in the young officer Estelle saw determination to his duty. He would take stronger measures if necessary, but she would not be getting by him. The information was what Kazaar had come for, and this would all be done when he got it. And not a minute before.

Estelle stepped back, taking a last look at the scene within. Reklar looked awful. Kazaar looked frightening. She realised she didn't anywhere nearly begin to know the man. And she was going to discuss him with Dasquian? One or two missions with Kazaar did not make her some kind of authority. Did not give her some kind of insight. It was simply a job done, a task competed. She had not gotten to know Aurelias at all. She did not know the man in that little dim room. What had she been thinking? What a fool. What a naive little fool.

"Well," she said finally, "I dont have the stomach to wait for those answers"

Estelle took up the pen and checked her chrono in order to enter her time of departure onto Crix's sign-in slate.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

"You ever hear of the Ghorman Massacre?" Crix said, his arms crossed.

Estelle looked at him for a moment, then resumed writing her name on the pad. Everyone had heard of the Ghorman Massacre; it was one of the chief reasons the Rebel Alliance was formed. After Tarkin landed his ship on a buncha protestors, he was promoted to Admiral while the (now-dead) protestors and their families got nothing.

"His parents were there you know," Crix continued, "They didn't make it out like some people did. Yeah they knew the risks, but no one expected Tarkin to actually land the ship on them.

He inclined his head a bit, "Word is, Kazaar didn't even know they were dead until Gorgja the Hutt told him, almost two weeks later.

"He spent time in an Imperial prison after that...killed a few stormtroopers in a bar-fight (they were drunk, he was drunk...it happens). He joined up, after a year of sitting around inna cell waiting for the Imps to say, 'Oh it was our fault, not yours'."

Crix's arms uncrossed, "That explain a few things about Kazaar? How would you feel if someone did that to your family?"

[Estelle Russard]

She'd paused the pen on the paper and a dark blue ink blotch was forming beneath its tip. Kazaar's tale was an awful one. She'd heard similar things happening to people - she'd even had a personal loss of her own. But she didn't go around killing and maiming for kicks.

However, her voice wasn't quite so judgemental as before when she atlast spoke.

"It doesn't change that this is wrong." A loud bang came from the room, but Estelle did not look over to see the cause of it. She could guess well enough. "It doesn't make any of it easier to swallow"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

"It's all in the eyes of the beholder," Crix responded, his arms now in his pocket, "Belargic wouldn't like it, but there are others here who don't mind seeing the Empire get what's coming to them. Especially those who joined up right after the formation of the Alliance."

He gave a shrug, "I don't mind seeing the Imperial in there get hurt, but there is a limit."

A chuckle, "Kazaar's smart, he knows when to stop."

Another *crack* came from the room, but it wasn't a blaster shot. Instead, the chair Kazaar had sat in had been turned over (by Kazaar) and two of the legs removed (again by Kazaar).

He stood over Reklar, the wooden chair legs in both hands.

He took only a moment, battering the orange jumpsuit with well placed blows.

A rib cracked.

A leg snapped.

All the while, nothing came from Kazaar's lips. He was beyond laughter now, the pleasure he took was one of the different form.

Dark...nebulous...vengeful. Like some type of angry god, reigning judgement on the guilty.

In this case...Captain Hiram Reklar of the Empire.

"The weird thing is," Crix noted, "Kazaar's ethics're stronger than you think. I told him once, he was born in the wrong time-period, hell, maybe the wrong universe.

"He has this desire to only hurt those who deserve (in this case our unlucky captain). Did you ever notice any one of his blaster shots hit someone who didn't deserve it?"


"WHO. IS. YOUR. LEADER!!" Kazaar finally roared, his voice now distorted with rage.

Reklar, his body bruised stared up at the Rebel.

"Go frack yourself," he uttered, "You'll get nothing from me."

Kazaar stared down at the empty grey eyes of Hiram Reklar.

The gloves he wore popped offa his hands, smacking against the one-way mirror.

Then the torturer bent down, digging his fingers into the Imperial's face.

A minute later, Reklar's right eye plopped on the floor of the room.

Kazaar smirked, "I just got ya right eye."

[Estelle Russard]

The raised voice brought both rebel heads round to look into the questioning room.

Kazaar had Reklar's head in his hands again, and Crix and Russard both without thinking about it, and both quite at the same time, leaned forward to try see just what was happening. Reklar's eye popped out to splat right-side up on the tiled floor

"Good god" Estelle's revulsion was obvious.

"Errr" was Crix's articulate remark.

And he was two steps behind Estelle as she reached for the twin pistols Kazaar had left on the desk beside them.

Snatching one silver-Bryar up in her hand, Russard fired off a shot at the interrogation room lock and the door, quite unexpectedly, sprang open.

Kazaar swung round at the interruption, a thunderous scowl on his weathered face.

Crix took one small step back - it was gonna hit the fan, now.

Estelle, blaster gripped in her white-knuckled hold glared at Kazaar, doing her best to ignore Reklar's howling and writhing and bleeding about just left in her peripheral vision.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

The situation was similar to Kazaar bringing back memories of the last time he'd been 'interrupted'. It reminded him of the time on Kuat when he'd been torturing the Imperial Officer for info on the TIE Interceptor only t'have that bastich, Pax Harkan, interrupt him.

The Rebel Spy gave a snort. 'The Kid' just didn't get it.

Their eyes locked with each other, both brown and blazing. They held a moment.

Behind Kazaar, Reklar started gasping, uttering something which sounded like, "Th-ruh...th-ruh....th-ruh..."

"Whatta ya doing 'ere, Kid?" Kazaar finally asked, "Ya ain't supposed t'be here."

[Estelle Russard]

Now that she was in here, Estelle didn't quite know what to do next. She'd acted on impulse - the sight of Reklar's eye coming out like that just spurred her to action.

Kazaar was throwing her off. His every-day manner incongruous with the callous havoc he was wreaking on their Imperial captive. Aurelias saw the wavering in her eyes and with the slightest gesture of his fingers, motion for her to hand over his pistol.

Her grip on the Brylar tightened.

"You have to stop this. You--you'll kill him if you keep this up"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar snorted, "So what? The guy (if ya even want t'call him human) deserves it."

He walked around t'the bleeding Imperial and grasped his bony face.

"I want ya t'meet Hiram Tarkinium, Kid," the smirk on Kazaar's face was awful, a mask of something Estelle couldn't figure out.

"He's a Colonel, not a Captain, in Imp Intel not th'Navy."

The former bounty hunter squeezed just a 'bit' and Reklar/Tarkinium spat blood over his orange jumpsuit. He motioned to the datapad lying on the flood near Estelle's feet.

"Go on...I ain't lying...take a look what our boy 'ere was doing 'bout 21 years ago."

[Estelle Russard]

It was grotesque. Reklar..or Tarkinium..looking up at her, trying to focus his one eye while the right was a gawping bloodied hole. His broken lips were puckered in Kazaar's steel grip and his sandy blond hair was plastered to his head either by sweat or blood, or both. It was grotesque, and it was pitiful. Estelle couldn't look away. The datapad remained on the floor by her feet.

"Deserving or not, you dont have the right to do this. You dont get to beat out every twisted issue of your own under the excuse of a special agent badge and say its just the way we do things. You been riding your own horse all over this whole mission and if you ask me, you been planning to get into a session like this the whole time"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

"Hah!" Kazaar's voice had an edge to it, "I never said the way I did things was th'way they were supposed t'be done. They're just the ones that work."

He released his grip on Tarkinium's face and again the Imperial officer started to utter, "Th-ruh...th-ruh..."

Kazaar's eyes were blazing and his face was a mask as he stared at Estelle, "There ain't no squaring this with 'tea and cakes', while sitting 'round a table, Kid!" he spread his right arm out in an almost grandiose gesture.

The voice was raspy and loud, "This is blood for blood, Kid!

"An eye for an eye! It's all or nothing Kid! Ain't nothing changing that!" his face was splashed red with the Imperial's blood.

"Ya gotta problem with that? Tough...my methods're my own.

"Lesson Eight, Kid. There ain't no heroes in this business."

[Estelle Russard]

"Tea and --" Estelle couldn't believe the man's gall. Just who the frell did Kazaar think he was speaking to? Didn't she just get herself shot at and chased down right along side him on Spindrift and again on Felucia. Did he think she was some prissy debutante who was playing at spies in between getting her fingernails painted and picking out party dresses.

"Frack your damn lessons" she sizzled at him, "You haven't got a clue about what a hero is. Or could be. All you know is violence and vengence" Reklar was gurgling something unitelligible, but Estelle couldn't address that right now. "Not every Imperial is your own personal catharsis. Wake up. The war is bigger than you're idiotic methods"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

"My methods?" Kazaar snorted again. Finally some emotion outta the damn girl.

He swore he could never understand women. At all.

"Kid, I do my 'fracking part'...why the hell do ya think I'm here! Why the hell do ya think Gorgja kept me around for so long?

"And why the frackin' hell do ya think, Belargic (in his infinite wisdom) keeps me around?

"I ain't someone with brains who can sit behind a desk and analyze stuff. And I ain't someone who studies languages or codes t'interpret what they might mean.

"I kill Imperials, Kid."

Tarkinium/Reklar gurgled something which sounded like 'thrown' and Kazaar pointed at the Imperial.

"Ya think Tarkinium and his uncle, the 'great' Grand Moff Tarkin...the one who's school is named after, thought 'bout others when they landed their ship on my parents and all the rest of those people on Ghorman?

"No...they kill Rebels well....I kill Imps well.

"And I do a damn fracking good job at it!" his closed fist slammed down on the table splintering a part of it.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Crix stared at the stand-off between the two Rebel Agents.

This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all.

Then it was made even worse by the revelation of 'Reklar's' true identity as the fourth nephew of Grand Moff Tarkin.

Frack...Frack!

Crix grabbed the nearest comlink and shouted into it.

"Security to the Interrogation List! I need a high security team to the Interrogation Room! This is a Code Purple! Repeat...this is a Code Purple!"

Frack!

[Estelle Russard]

Estelle jumped involuntarily as Kazaar turned his anger with her into action, splintering the table and doing his best to yell out a lung.

Beside her, Reklar gurgled blood and began coughing in an alarming fashion. Estelle thought inwardly, and a tad hypocritically, that she wish he'd shut up for a minute - he was making it hard for her to think of something cutting to shout back at Aurelias.

Crix had called a Code -- and even now she could hear booted feet thudding down the hallway.

"Well, this is what your fabulous methods get us Kazaar. You'll probably get us both arrested by Belarg--by Dasquian."

She turned slightly toward the doorway, expecting any moment the Director to come through it -- his characteristic calm transformed into a hail of fire and brimstone on them.

"Tarkin's nephew...well thats just great, Kazaar."

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Three security guards fell in line around Van-Derveld as the Code Purple was called. It was a code that was barely used during interrogations. Usually it was a Code Red was called if the prisoner managed to get loose. A Purple one meant that one of their own had crossed the line and even before she was briefed, the Agent knew exactly the identity of the culprit.

Kazaar.

Why Dasquian had allowed the hot head more freedom then he deserved? She had voiced her concerns several times over his inability to follow orders and blurring the lines. He had countered that his methods had produced results and no one had gotten seriously hurt, until now. Now his drannit was grass.

"I want him cuffed and thrown in the slammer pronto." She slammed the door pad with the side of her fist. She caught a glimpse of Crix and Estelle inside and it was clear they were surprised to see her, but there wasn't enough time to explain. "Enough of his dren."

They filed in and her eyes passed over the Agents, lingering on her friends face a moment longer. To witness the cruelty that Kazaar had done, it was all the more reason to throw his carcass into the brig. "Override that door and take him down if he resists."

She hit the comm and her voiced barked into the interrogation cell. "Agent Kazaar. You are ordered to stand down, now! By violating article 23 B of Alliance Protocols, you are hereby placed under arrest."

The grey door slid open and the three agents marched inside, blasters set to stun. She was done being nice. Her men were ordered that if Kazaar even flinched the wrong way, shoot him.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

If he'd wanted to, Kazaar woulda fought 'em...he knew he could take out several of his fellow Rebels, before he was gunned down in a hail a blaster fire.

But he wasn't stupid...plus, he was still on their side, even if they weren't always on his.

He rose his bloodied hands in the air, the look on his face one of defiance. This time, he was headed to the brig...for a while.

But he still didn't think it was right.

The Rebel Forces poured into the interrogation room, ignoring 'The Kid' for a moment (who still hadn't lowered the silver Bryar-pistol yet, although Grace placed a hand on Estelle's arms and started lightly pushing the blaster down).

The former (and possible 'current' depending on when he got out of the brig) bounty hunter's arms were roughly pulled behind him and he was cuffed while they searched him for any more weapons. They found one more lethal looking vibroblade, which found its way onto the floor of the interrogation room.

'The Kid's' face was a mask as she watched Kazaar put in binders, she was angry (at him) but possibly at herself f'not stopping it earlier. Not puttin' an end to his 'fun' at the hands of Tarkinium.

It was the Imperial's voice, retched, short, and gasping which caused everyone pause.

"Th-Thrawn!" it yelled, as if it grabbed its strength from somewhere, "Th...the shipment...is...going...to....Thrawnnnnnnnd...."

The voice trailed off. Kazaar thought he heard the Imperial say something else, but he wasn't certain.

But he had a name now.

The smirk on his bloody face was large, as he was pulled past Van-Derveld and Estelle.

"Looks like I still got it done...Boss-lady."

Then he was pulled outta the Interrogation Room and towards the brig...his head up in defiance.

[Estelle Russard]

Grace had taken charge of the situation in a 'take-no-prisoners' type fashion - which was ironic, because Kazaar had been hauled off in irons. She had left no room for any misconception on anyone's behalf that what Aurelias had done had been breach of protocol and would not be tolerated.

Estelle felt..relieved, mostly. And guilty, to a degree. She had not wanted Kazaar to get into trouble, but what other option was there? Shoot him? Now, she was thinking like him..

It was horrible to see the agents grab Kazaar up like that, cuffing him roughly and leading him out, but there was nothing for it. He had brought it on himself.

She was almost annoyed at Reklar, or Tarkinium as they now knew him, for giving up Thrawn's name and somehow validating what Kazaar had done. There was something weird about the way he had done it. Shouting out like that. Estelle wondered if it was because he finally had a real audience and could show his willingness to help in front of Grace - an obvioulsy high ranking officer and therefore perhaps gain a favorable outome to his captivity. Who knew. Not her, thats for sure. This whole situation was beyond her.

Grace was looking at her - those cool eyes steady and assuring in one glance.

Estelle shifted her gaze from Grace, to Kazaar's retreating back, his head held high and rebellious the whole time. She dropped her eyes to his Bylar pistol in her hand.

"I didn't know what to do. Will Aurelias be alright?"

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Whether or not Kazaar had gotten the job done or not was moot in Grace's eyes. The methods that he had used with his interrogation broke every ethical standard that the Alliance was built upon. They were suppose to be modeling the behavior that was humane and just, to be a stark contrast against the Empire.

Then there was Estelle. She should never have been put in this situation at. The young Agent was still too green to handle someone crossing the line of interrogation.

"It's all right." Her voice was calm and reassuring, unlike the snappish and gruff tone mere seconds before. "You did what you thought was best given the circumstances." A smile flickered briefly before her attention fell upon their prisoner.

Not only did Kazaar's actions violate code, the Empire will be fuming over what happened to one of their own. But it wouldn't be so simple as Anti-Rebel propaganda for their mistreatment of prisoners. No. It had to be a direct descendent of Grand Moff Tarkin himself. The newly crowned Moff Tarkin of Doldur will not let this go unpunished once she found out about this. There was so much damage control to work out and so little time to do it. And of course there was the news of Thrawn. Dasq picked a helluva time to leave.

First things first ...

"Get him to med bay ASAP. I want him cleaned and patched up." The two guards hefted the battered prisoner onto the hover gurney. Grace pulled the nurse aside as they filed out. "Make sure a cybernetic eye replacement is on the doctor's list of things to do."

That elicited a surprised response. "But... But Ma'am ..."

"I don't care if he was the Emperor. A wrong was committed and it needs to be rectified. Am I clear?" Her sharp tone was responded with only a curt nod before the nurse exited, leaving Grace and Estelle alone. "As for Agent Kazaar, that will be up to the Tribunal to decide."

[Estelle Russard]

Tribunal. If ever a word had an ominous ring to it, it was that one.

Estelle felt the outlook was bleak for Kazaar. He'd been dancing along the razors edge of appropriate and inappropriate conduct for a long time, and if anyone was to be made an example of how not to do things, he had served himself up on a platter for it.

Estelle failed at masking her dismay from Grace. Why did people have to make things difficult for themselves. She found her anger at Aurelias surfacing all over again.

She forced some optimism into her thoughts.

"This news of Thrawn is something, though, right? I'd thought he was dead all this time"

[Grace Van-Derveld]

"Yes, that news is troublesome. I'll have the information ready to present before Mon Razien myself and explain what happened here." She sighed, "He will not be please at all, but we'll have to verify it. Remember, the information was given under duress. He could have been lying."

Razien was a peaceful man and only did things out of necessity. He understood the necessary evils required of the spy network and turned a blind eye to it. Grace would not withhold how the information was obtained and by whom. Hopefully Razien will find a way to turn this around so the damage from the fallout won't be as catastrophic as she envisioned.

Van-Derveld noticed that Estelle was fuming, more so then usual when Kazaar did something stupid. But who could blame her?

"You alright?" She sat down against the console and crossed her arms. Even though Estelle had become a capable Agent, Grace couldn't help but be a bit less cold around her. It's not that she was playing favorites as some of the other spies rumored about, it was as simple as an older sister looking after her younger sibling.

[Estelle Russard]

Her response was at first hesitant. Russard wasn't sure that if she said anything further, converyed some of the misgivings she was feeling, if it would make things worse for Aurelias. Though, that would be a feat, really. To make things worse. Estelle doubted that was even possible.

Grace had taken a moment to allow Estelle the luxury of unburdening herself, and the young Russard had sense enough to know that this was a rare gift not offered to many by her superior officer. A nervous smile tried to present itself, but Estelle could not bring it off, and so gave up with as straight a look at the Assistant Director as she could manage.

"Im just...concerned for Aure--Agent Kazaar. He makes me so angry because he seems to always want to do things the hardest way possible. But, I think there are some things he is hanging onto, from his former life, that..um...are haunting him. I know that sounds lame. And that Im far from qualified to comment on this type of thing, but--"
Here, she struggled to say what she meant.

What she meant was, she didn't want anything bad to happen to Kazaar. That she, in all honesty, respected him and wanted to learn to operate as he did. Not the torture thing, obviously, but to function in the field with such an easy and natural manner, like he did. Danger didn't phase him. Violence didn't phase him either. He was cool under pressure. Yeah, that was it. He was cool. But she couldn't say that to Grace Van-Derveld. That would be really lame. And some of the wilder things he did..well, there aren't excuses for it, but there are reasons.

She tried again,

"but..I think he needs help more than punishment."

There. It was said.

Would Grace think her some wide-eyed innocent who didn't have a clue about the realities of things? Would she think Estelle had over stepped her mark in presuming to know what Kazaar needed most? Half of her wished she's just shut her yap (as Kazaar might say) and remained silent.

But it was too late now, the cat was out of the bag. Estelle's sincere care for Aurelias was right out there in the open.

Suddenly the nervous smile had no difficulty appearing under Grace's scrutiny, and Estelle couldn't stop it.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

She raised a brow at the almost slip. So, Estelle had a fondness for Kazaar? This was going to make things more complicated. Though the next question was how far did those feelings go? Was it just a deep seated respect and admiration with working as partners, something that she could relate quite easily. Or was there a tinge of romantic attraction that would put Estelle at risk. Something she could ... possibly relate to.

The key was controlling those feelings and keeping them to oneself in order to not put yourself in risk. It was the only way to survive as a spy and protect the ones you cared about.

Then again, this line of thought could be for nothing and Grace could have simply misinterpreted Estelle's worries about Kazaar. But that silly smile of that girl's gave her reason to worry.

"You realize that this could be a dangerous path you're walking." Grace's tone betrayed her disapproval as she turned away from Estelle. She began downloading the video of the interrogation into her datapad. "I know from personal experience. Keep your wits about you and make sure that you feelings about Kazaar are kept in check. Belargic and I have let that man slide more times then we should have and because of that, things have gotten out of control. I will not have another incident like this on my conscience."

[Estelle Russard]

Grace had invited Estelle's confidence, and part of that, Estelle now understood, was to expect a forthright response. Russard gave the advice its due respect.

True enough, it was easy to blur lines in this spy business. Some things were absolute, while others were not quite so defined. And this was the danger. There were rules, and then there were rules. Allowing emotion to dictate an operative's response could be good and bad, simply depending on the situation to hand. The great ones could always figure which was which.

Estelle couldn't help her feelings, though. Kazaar was a one of a kind and despite his glaring short comings, was one heck of an agent.

Then Estelle realised Grace was alluding to something other than just a concern for someone. Did she think..? Wait -- that her and Kazaar..??

Estelle suddenly felt mortified.

The thought was absurd. Wasn't it? Good grief. Estelle suddenly wondered if she had developed a crush on Aurelias. The thought left her bereft of something intelligent to say.

Grace had looked up from the datapad and was quietly watching her.

"N-no" Estelle stammered. "You're quite right. This cant happen again"

She stood there like some half-wit yearning for Grace to dismiss her so that she could be alone and gain back some form of coherent thought again.

Surely, not a crush.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

She sighed softly, not sure if Estelle's quick quips came from a horrified thought of a romantic attachment with Kazaar, or if she was worked up because there was a ring of truth to it.

"I'm glad you agree..." Grace disconnected the link and pocketed the datapad. She wasn't quite sure whether to push the issue further, but it was probably best to let Estelle figure it out on her own. And if not, she always had a way of finding herself inside Agent Van-Derveld's office.

Still ...

"Are you all right?" Her brows evened out in concern. "You seem ... tense."

... It was fun messing with her.

[Estelle Russard]

"I guess Im just thinking about what you said.."

She let the words hang, not sure how much more to say. Heck, she didn't even know what to think, let alone say.

The one thing Estelle did know for sure, however, was that it would be some time before she would be able to see Kazaar again. Perhaps, in light of this recent topic, it was for the best.

"Is there anything more I should do tonight?"

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Her smile faded, it was time to let things slide. "I will be turning in the evidence right away, but I don't think we'll need a statement from you until tomorrow. Be prepared for that. Till then, I suggest getting back to your duties. You still need to turn in your reports on this matter regardless."

[Estelle Russard]

"It will be on your desk first thing tomorrow" Estelle promised. Writing reports were almost therapeutic to the young agent and was a part of her job she thoroughly enjoyed. Perhaps it stemmed from her student habits - her love of academic orderliness. But somehow, Estelle guessed this report would be much harder than the others to write.

And then there was the other thing. How had Grace put it? ..keep your feelings in check..

She said she knew from her own experience. Estelle wondered who Grace was referring to. And how long past, such a circumstance had occured for her. Various faces paraded across Russards mind -- Dasquian, Morgan, Yun? Estelle paused at the door before leaving, casting a quick look over her shoulder. There was so much more to Assistant Director Grace Van-Derveld than she currently knew. Over time, Estelle hoped their friendship would change that.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar was pulled out of the interrogation room, his arms shackled behind his back. He kept his head up in defiance, not caring at all about what his guards, Van-Derveld, or, hell, even 'The Kid' thought about his actions.

He knew what he'd done. And what he'd done was right.

The former bounty hunter was taken down a long white hall, down another, and then moved into a black-tiled 'processing' area.

Tarkinium/Reklar's blood still stained his face red as the two Rebel soldiers positioned Kazaar's body in front of the white height background. A black numbered card was placed before him and two holo-photos were taken of his face. One full-on, the other to the side.

Kazaar almost (almost) considered givin' a grin, but instead just stood there and stared. His mind was locked away from the events 'round him.

Far as he was concerned...he coulda been taken to a firing squad (no doubt the 'Boss-lady' wanted that done) and he wouldn't have given a damn.

Kazaar'd made his own way and chosen his own path. If anyone didn't like it...frack 'em.

His hands were then pulled in front of him by some geeky lookin' technician, one of those who spends more time in th'lab than actually doing something. The tech's voice wasn't squeaky but didn't have Kazaar's gruff tone as it told 'im to not try anything and that this would only take a moment.

Kazaar grunted...actually it was more of a snort...but it said all he cared about at th'moment.

Nothing.

His mind was empty of all thoughts, except for two images.

The one of his dead partner, her smoky eyes boring holes into his own, the expression on her face one which couldn't be read. It was focussed and direct. The smoke from her mouth made her even more seductive.

Then it faded away into the gaze of another...this one a hint of fear, a hint of defiance, and a hint of concern.

The gaze of Estelle Russard. 'The Kid'.

Kazaar'd thought earlier he didn't care what she thought.

He was lying...inna way...he did care about some things on 'er mind. And not just makin' her a better agent. The way she carried herself...it reminded her of his dead partner...maybe even more.

'The Kid' spoke her mind more and even then it was more than just a, "You shouldn't be here," like she'd said on Spindrift.

Nah...she had...spunk...intelligence...she'd be good.

If she let herself be good.

His mind came back t'reality as he was led down another hall towards the brig. He'd been given an 'honor guard' of four Rebel troopers, each with a nasty lookin' blaster in their arms, in case he decided t'make it hard on 'em. The Alderaan-born Brentaalian wouldn't...but ya never did know.

Kazaar was shoved into a refresher (uncuffed, thankfully) and told to clean himself off.

He almost barked at the jailer, "What ya gonna give me some privacy or'm I gonna worrying 'bout 'dropping the soap'".

Then he decided t'hold his tongue.

F'once.

Kazaar was hustled back out of the refresher (after taking a purposefully, longer time than normal) and given a bright orange jumpsuit.

The kind criminals were given.

He snorted.

Morons.

If Kazaar was guilty of anything it was doin' his job too well.

He was led to a cell in the back of the brig. Thankfully, there wasn't a cellmate. Gods only knew what woulda happened then.

Kazaar was ordered to take a seat on the white pad (which was supposedly a bed) and wait for a meal.

Five minutes later a slab of some type of slop and a glass of (tepid) water ended up on the floor in front of him.

Then he noticed it. The dark, cylindrical object next to the plastic fork. A one use flame-stick next to it.

A cigar. All ready cut too by the looks of it.

Kazaar reached forward, ignoring what was supposed t'be food, and scooped up the cigar.

He'd save it if he could, wait until after he got out t'enjoy it. But based on Van-Derveld's expression and the way he was processed, Kazaar figured th'cigar wouldn't last that long.

So he'd hafta enjoy it now.

He placed the cigar in his mouth, tasting briefly the spiciness of the unlit tobacco wrapper.

It tasted good, but not as good as when he raised his hands up to the edge of the cigar and tasted the burnt flavor of tobacco.

Kazaar's expression changed for th'first time since he'd be led out of the interrogation room.

He smirked.

Whoever'd given him th'cigar agreed with what he'd done. Even if they couldn't say it aloud...they agreed with him.

So however long it'd take him t'get out...he'd wait.

'The Kid' would visit him at some point...'sides, he only trusted her with 'The Twins' anyway.

But until then, he'd wait for his time t'come.

And that caused Kazaar t'smirk again.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Epilogue

Inside her office, Van-Derveld stewed over the footage of Kazaar's interrogation. The bastard was going to be carved and served up before the Military Tribunal if she had anything to say about it. Dasquian had kept that man on far too loose a leash and Kazaar finally cracked. It was only a matter of time, but of all the people to lash out against.

She had filed her report two standard hours ago with Dasquian and was not envious of his position. He was going to have to personally inform High Command of Tarkinium's abuse and discuss ways to lessen the impending offense and smear campaign that would inevitably result from this, but her thoughts were broken by the chime of her comm.

Ma'am? I have Crix here to see you. He says it's urgent.

"Send him on in." She swiveled the chair around as Crix barreled inside with purpose. His pallor was off and she noticed visible sweat Her long face became concer as to what the emergency was. The Empire could not have received the news yet of what happened. "What's going on?"

He was fumbling with a datachip between his fingers. "Our slicers been workin' on getting those codes cracked since Kazaar and Russard came back. They just deciphered them about 20 minutes ago. And ..." He couldn't finished the sentence and turned Grace's console around and uploaded the data.

Crix backed off and shove the console around. "Just look for yourself."

Grace was shocked and visibly paled.

"Yeah." The big guy nodded. "We have more problems to worry about then just Thrawn."

Her lapse in composure was brief. They had to move quickly. "Get this verified immediately!"

The Rebellion was possibly frelled if this Intel were true ...

[Taylor Millard]

The Unknown Regions- Chiss Space- Entry to the Redoubt

The seven Imperial Star Destroyers hovered like teeth in the blackness of space. Around them, a dozen Chiss combat cruisers, their dreadnought-style hulls covered with turbolaser batteries and concussion missile ports. Chiss heavy fighters, along with Clawcrafts and various TIE-Class Fighters, patrolled the area.

A sense of battle permeated the air, bringing a buzz to the minds of most present. A sense of pride. A sense of duty.

And the desire to bring death on those who were about to invade them.

He hadn't seen Thrawn in months. Not since his mentor decided to take the battle to the Vagaari and their 'Far-Outsider' allies.

But he knew Thrawn was still alive.

He had wanted to go with him, take the fight those who threatened Imperial space, but Thrawn had turned him down.

"You need to stay here, Admiral," Thrawn had said, while the two stared at various paintings and sculptures, "You have learned much, but there is much about art you can learn. Especially here."

At the time, The Imperial Admiral suspected Thrawn's decision to leave was based on his exile from the Chiss many years prior. Thrawn hadn't been greeted warmly when he'd returned to Chiss space, but there was still a certain 'awe' carried by some of those around him.

Much like the awe the Empire felt for Thrawn.

There was a *buzz* at the door to his office and Captain Tomar, his second-in-command hurried in. Tomar was good soldier, someone who worked hard at his craft, and knew when he was outmatched. He still had much to learn.

"Admiral, we've reached battle stations," he reported, quickly, "We are all ready."

A nod, "Good. I trust, Jaranda isn't giving you too much trouble?"

A smile came across the Imperial Captain's face.

Jaranda, otherwise known as, Aristocra Jar'anda'inrokini, was the liason between the Chiss and the Imperials. She was a half-breed, human and Chiss, and it was rumored her father was the dead-Imperial Admiral Firmus Piett (although she had been raised as a 'shadow child', until a suitable surrogate father could be found). She was a part of Chiss Intelligence, reporting back to her leaders in the Ascendancy of her activities.

It wasn't known if Jaranda reported back on the 'extracurricular activities' she and Tomar engaged in during the night. Somehow, both Imperials doubted it.

The Admiral took a sip from his glass of Cassandran Brandy, "I will be on the bridge in a moment, Captain."

"Thank you sir," Tomar replied, "Also, Wargrave has arrived. He's finishing his report now and will have it for you soon."

Another nod and Tomar turned to leave.

He stopped for a moment before the door, "And, may I say, sir, the uniform looks good on you. It is about time you were promoted to Grand Admiral."

A sharp intake of breath came out of the Grand Admiral, almost like a snort. But he knew Tomar meant well.

"Thank you, Captain," he stated simply, as Tomar left.

At times, the white Grand Admiral uniform felt odd to wear, but that was quickly fading away to nothingness. It was an honor to receive the ranking, something the Balmorran had set out as a goal when he'd first joined the (then) Republic Navy during the Clone Wars, as a Non-Commissioned Officer.

Well...he corrected himself...the rank of Admiral was something he'd set as a goal. Grand Admiral was something he was happy to take upon.

He rose from his chair, finishing his brandy with a quick drink, then strode on the bridge.

"Grand Admiral on deck!" Tomar called, as he emerged from his office. Behind him, the Imperial Royal Guardsman, known as Thomas, followed to the command chair.

"Sir!" a tech called, "Vagaari ships coming out of hyperspace!"

"Very well. You know your jobs. See to it."

The battle was long and hard.

Vagaari ships (the enemies of the Chiss and the Empire) poured everything they had at the combined forces. Proton Torpedoes and heavy rockets lit the emptiness of space, as the Imperials fired upon their enemies.

TIE Defenders and Bombers ran their bombing runs upon the organic-like ships, while the Vagaari fighters did the same.

The 'teeth', the formation of Imperial Star Destroyers, began their barrage on their Vagaari counterparts, each focusing on a single target. Once that was destroyed it moved onto the next one. Simple, but effective.

For the most part.

"Sir," the communications officer reported, "The Avenger is reporting heavy damage to her port shields. They've just failed."

"Have Hunter's Eye move up and take a defensive position next to Avenger. Have Stark's Squadron do a run, then prepare the micro-jump. Formbi's fleet will know what to do next."

"Yes, sir."

A *hum* came from the Star Destroyer's engines as it prepared its hyperspace jump. A moment later, star lines appeared, then disappeared.

Behind them, the Vagaari ships began their long turn to face their enemies, while Formbi's fleet decloaked, in front of the Vagaari.

It was a slaughter afterwards.

The Vagaari were forced to retreat, a few stray fighters attempting to do suicide runs on Imperial ships. They were slightly successful, as two additional Star Destroyers (and four Chiss Cruisers) suffered major damage. But they would recover.

A smile came from the lips of the Imperial Grand Admiral.

"Good work. Attend to the wounded."

Then the Balmorran disappeared into his office.

It was there he felt the presence first, a ghost almost. When the black-cloaked figure appeared, he gave an almost-smile.

"You have something to report?"

"Someone knew about the shipment. They slaughtered everyone."

He scanned the report from the figure, an unreadable look on his face. The way the stormtroopers had been piled in the hangar bay...it sent a message.

We know, it said, We know you are here.

It was always possible someone would discover the shipment, with the various resources being moved from port to port all to one location. But with a shipment this large...someone was bound to notice.

"Did you run into any trouble?"

The stony-faced man gave barely a shake of his head, "No. They were gone when I arrived. Everyone was dead, save for Captain Tarkinium. He was missing."

A nod. The report would be sent on to Imperial Command (especially the part about Tarkinium, a member of Imperial Intelligence assigned to the Yage Minor shipyards) where appropriate action would be taken.

"Very well. Rest, then report to me for your next mission," a pause, "It is good you have returned...brother."

The stony-face faded away, as Wargrave dropped his guise. The face became flesh-colored, the grey hair turned blonde, and the grey eyes now contained life in them. The Grand Admiral's brother was goateed, and a larger smile hid beneath it.

"It's good to see you too, brother."

Contrary to popular belief, Wargrave was not a Dark Jedi, but instead a Jensaari (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Jensaari).

When the two were younger, their father, a Balmorran Jedi, had taken the youngest to the Jedi Praxaem to learn the ways of the Force. But things tended to take odd turns and weeks later the Jedi were destroyed by 'Order 66' and the younger disappeared.

The Grand Admiral had thought himself the last of his family, until encountering his brother many years later at the behest of 'Shaman Woman' (as the Imperials called her. Both Millard and Wargrave knew her true name, but didn't speak it unless in her presence). A genetic test confirmed the identity and they were reunited.

He'd never bothered to ask Trent (his brother) what had happened, only knowing it had been the will of someone the two be brought back together. Then he had taken the identity of 'Wargrave', a legend of Balmorra as his own.

Wargrave became an agent of his brother, serving him where he could not go, acting as a representative while his brother fought against the Vagaari and the other dangers of the Unknown Regions.

It was good...brother and brother together again. As it always should have been.

A smile, larger than his brother's, crossed Trent's face. Indeed it was good to see him alive.

But a moment later, the smile faded and the grey-faced Wargrave returned. Then he disappeared into the shadows.

The Imperial Grand Admiral turned in his office seat, staring out the window of the Imperial Star Destroyer Superior. Repair ships were all ready beginning to repair those damaged in the battle. Another battle would come, as the combined Chiss and Imperial forces kept the Vagaari and their allies at bay.

He steepled his gloved fingers as he stared at the stars.

Grand Admiral Taylor Millard was used to waiting.

And he would continue to.

Until the job was done.