Showdown at Junction

Familiar enough with the appearance of Captain Ben from the holo, Loki patrolled the periphery of the carnage, inspecting the scattered remains of the passengers. The stench was putrid, and reminded him of the time he saw a Lurmen village burn to the ground, many years ago. Over the edge of the speeder, leaned a black torso, gnarled and twisted by the heat. It looked like it might be inspecting the undercarriage, reaching out with its bony fingers to make last minute repairs. Loki gave the interior a once over, but found there was nothing telling of the speeder's occupants - though their story was clear enough. A family murdered, in an horrific instant, for trying to get away.

Through the smoky haze, he spotted Shuvin; the sight of the wreckage had taken its toll. He wondered how she would hold up once they arrived at the base, especially if they found her Captain Ben in a similar condition. The sight of death did not concern him, it was the injustice that unsettled him so: his hatred of the Empire had been cultivated from an early age, it had been given focus through the lens of rebel bias, and credence with Alliance reports. He'd killed faceless Imperial soldiers because that was the thing he was supposed to do, because the Empire was the enemy. But this?

"We are wasting time." He was already on his way back to the speeder when a distant howl drew his attention to the sky, and to a small gunship that was on its way back to the city.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Cerie Moreau

"C'mon, Shuvin. Ben's not here. Let's go."

---

Shuvin jumped at the mention of her name, but only nodded haggardly and walked back to the mule.

"Yeah," she said dazedly, looking back at the bodies. "He's not here."

They left behind the wreckage, and Shuvin didn't look back once.

As the site of the once rebel base came into view, they could see gunships and troop transports lifting off in perfect concert, making their ways to the city or to the Destroyer.

The ebullient mood had been broken and no equilibrium had been restored by the time they'd made their way to the ruins of the ranch site. Shuvin had remained stubbornly silent until they'd pulled up to the pile of bodies placed in the midst of the destruction. Above, the Star Destroyer still loomed, but now it seemed distant, like a deadly moon rather than an imminent catastrophe.

Shuvin's already drawn face simply showed how hard she was clenching her jaw.

"Ben!" she called, hopping out of the speeder and rushing past the disrespectful pyre. "Ben! ​Ben!"

"We've completed our search of the structures. There's no one left."

"Yes, well get a scanning crew and make doubly sure!" Captain Orgern replied sharply to the stormtrooper sergeant, who saluted as he turned back to join his platoon."

This was frustration. They were so close to total victory, and despite that, the small details of ultimate satisfaction were eluding him. Finding Loklorien s'Ilancy had suddenly taken paramount importance. More important than leadership assets to this partisan cell. More important than caches of arms or intelligence. The Captain knew what the Jedi's capture meant to his superior, and he knew even more intimately what it would mean to fail. The thought of it left his throat dry, and Reikkel turned with a heel pivot to the makeshift observation post the Imperials still occupied at the fringes of the base.

Then it hit him. The boxes. He'd recovered some boxes from his encounter with s'Ilancy. Ostensibly dressed up as sweets, but one would have to be an idiot to assume that was the case.

"Trooper! I want these boxes inspected carefully."

Retrieving the captured materiale from a satchel, Orgern passed the parcels to the nearest stormtrooper.

"Be careful, they may be booby-trapped."

Better to have the trooper find that out if they were, of course. Orgern stood a careful distance away, watching as the stormtrooper carefully opened the cardstock flap of one of the brightly colored boxes. He reached inside...then pulled a small brownish disc. Even without his face visible, the trooper's body language telegraphed his total confusion.

"It, uh...it appears to be a biscuit, sir."

Captain Orgern surged forward, anger reddening his face. He snatched the offending baked goods from the stormtrooper's fingers, glancing at it before returning his ire to the trooper.

"Of course it's a biscuit!"

His gloved fist closed over the snack food, pulverizing it into a rain of sweet crumbs that fell to the earth. Why was fortune pissing down his leg?? Why further was Loklorien s'Ilancy traipsing about on an enemy stronghold with biscuits??

* * *

Cerie had slid from the speeder at the same time as Shuvin, her boots hitting the ground in rapid pace as she followed the Togruta closely. The pile was purposefully ignored - after the wreckage of the speeder, she'd just about had her fill of death. Oh, she knew that the galaxy was a rather unforgiving place, and life was never fair, but there were times when a person just couldn't look upon such utter despair for long periods of time. It was worse when encountered in pockets... like during an Imperial bombardment, and the leftovers scattered in its' wake.

Of course, the smell of what had happened here was enough to remind her well enough that this, right now, was one of those times that life wanted her to know just how brutal it could be.

"Ben!!"

Echoing Shuvin's own cry, the blonde instantly found her gaze sweeping left and right, hoping to spot him poking his head up from behind whatever hiding place he might've found.

"Ben??! You can stop hiding now!"

In unison with Shuvin and Cerie, Loki grabbed his toolbox, climbed out of the speeder, and moved over charred earth towards the landscape of devastation that had unfurled before them. It was a rare thing for him to be passively aware of the feelings of another, but the intensity of Shuvin's emotions were such that they hit him like waves, and compelled him onwards, drawing him, like a beacon, deeper into the smoking ruins. The urgency of his companions was not reflected in his steps, as he climbed over mounds of broken brick and warped durasteel - he did not share their attachment to this Captain Ben, and, given the circumstances, there was something to be said for keeping a cool head.

Splitting from the others to cover more ground, he found himself in what was once a courtyard, flanked on all sides of broken husks of buildings. The ground was pocked with deep uniform craters, scars from the hellfire rained down from above; there was one crater so deep it appeared to have penetrated a bunker deep underground, where thick black smoke billowed into the air like some sort of hellish geyser. With every step, it seemed like the captain's chances of survival became slimmer. He could be anywhere: under the rubble, on a pyre, or buried inside the smoking bunker.

"Captain Ben!" Loki called out. 'Ben' was too familiar for someone he'd never met. A twisted metal door groaned, and snapped off its hinges as he tried to open it. He peered inside, "Captain Ben?"

"Ben! Ben!" Shuvin screamed out over the smoking battlefield. "No, please no. BEN!"

She stopped, panting from her running and shouting to simply look at the remains of people and buildings and ships scattered about. Cerie was coming up on her side, and she could see Loki making his way through the debris to her. The sound of the fire and debris shifting in the distance in several different places echoed in the quiet landscape.

"Damn it! Damn it!" she gasped, tears threatening to drip down her now dusty cheekbones. "Where is he?"

Emotion bubbled inside of her: fear and dread and frustration and helplessness roiled around inside, and came out with the snarled yell and swift kick to a Rebel trooper's helmet laying on the ground nearby, launching it off into the distance; she didn't see where, as sudden pain erupted in her foot and she kept her eyes on the ground. Even so, she could hear Loki and Cerie coming up.

"That hurt," she murmured, keeping her weight off her smarting toes.

For a while, everything was simply dark and he thought for a moment maybe he'd finally come to the end; maybe he'd finally died.

He felt relief first. It was finally over. The long defeat had claimed him. But there was also a deep sense of fear and panic at the thought of dying, and an overwhelming desire to return. Why? He then remembered Esther, and Shuvin, and Cerie. Cirr. Lyanie. Mama Taa.

He still felt relieved to let go, but now there was guilt and sadness and a bit of a sense of longing. He'd never caught up to Esther.

And then he woke up in a dark and dusty expanse. He couldn't tell where he was, though the coughing and the pain in his head made him reasonably sure that he wasn't dead. He was sitting down, with his back against a wall. With some effort, he pushed himself to his feet, and tried to track back mentally while carefully moving forward physically.

So, he remembered talking to that Selonian. After that, he left the building looking for something, or someone. What was it? He nearly tripped over a loose hard something on the floor, but barely managed to keep his feet. His mind putting together the pieces made his head hurt even more.

Banthabrand. He nearly fell to his side as the wall was no longer there. He could hear noise and wind close by. He'd been looking for Banthabrand. His payment was credits and information on the bounty hunter that had taken his niece from Corulag.

He reached out in front of himself and shambled forward slightly, until his hands pressed up against cracked duracrete; with almost no effort, he could feel the pieces move slightly, so he pushed a bit harder, and the pieces of concrete and dirt fell away, letting light pierce the darkness and prompting a hushed profanity from him when his eyes couldn't adjust quickly enough. It took some time to make an opening in the rubble large enough for him to pull himself through, and once he did, he looked around and up at the smoky sky and coughed.

"I'm alive!" he gasped hoarsely, falling to his knees and coughing his lungs out. "I'm alive!"

And then a helmet came sailing through the air and collided with his face.

"Ow!" he cried, hands coming up to grip his face and falling onto his back. "Damn it, that hurt!"

Shuvin looked up, eyes wide as she heard a meaty 'thwack' and then a choked cry of pain, one so familiar she knew who it was without any real cadence to it.

She sprinted off, ignoring Loki and Cerie's calls for her and the sharp pain in her foot, to skirt a large debris pile and catch sight of a dusty figure rolling around with his hands on his face.

"Ben!" she shouted, picking up speed. Ben pushed himself off the ground to his knees just in time to be tackled back to the ground by his teenage mechanic. "Ben, you're alive!"

"Uh," the Alderaani man grunted, blood dribbling from his nose and a massive bruise forming on his face. His eyes were slightly unfocused, but he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her back. "Yeah. Sure am."

She let out a sobbing gasp and held him tighter.

"Ah! Watch the horns there sweetie," he grunted. "Almost gored me. Then where'd we be, hm? Nowhere good, I'll tell you."

Shuvin sobbed out and laugh and continued to hold him.

The shouting drew Loki, at once. He came scrambling over a small mountain of debris, and skidded down the other side, with dislodged bricks, and wood, clattering in his wake. There was Shuvin, clutching desperately onto Captain Ben, who, if he hadn't been talking and moving, might've been dead for all the crying she was doing. Loki slowed to a stop, keeping a respectful distance from the tearful reunion. He watched, for as long as he dared. During his time with the Jedi, he'd never shared in their proclivity for exploring feelings, but, to see Shuvin's fear turn into relief, provided him with no small degree of satisfaction.

While they talked and embraced, he allowed his gaze to wander, scanning their immediate surroundings for an uninvited anyone, or anything, that might turn their joy to ashes.

The Imperial gunship touched down on the parade ground before the Royal Palace of Feriae, it's skids bumping the duracrete as the twin ion engines tapered off their growl. Vissica slinked from the fuselage, rising to two feet as four shock troopers followed in her wake. The rhythmic clap of their synthetic soles on the pavement was as constant as a war drum as the troopers marched to the gate. Each man behind the Knight carried a blaster rifle hoisted across their chest, save for one. The last man carried an opaque grey lidded box, affixed with the Imperal gear insigna.

As the entourage crested the stairs leading to the castle, they were confronted by two members of the Kings watch.

"I have business with King Vashakhal." The Selonian rasped.

With some reservations, the guards stood aside, drawing the heavy doors apart. Within, the royal court was in session. Any business at hand died on every pair of lips, as all eyes turned toward the Imperial Knight.

"We have reports of Imperial soldiers in the city. The city!" Steward Kaiz shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Vissica as he stepped between her and the king.

"To say nothing of your...spectacle to the west. Barbarity! You didn't even so much as consult with the King! The King, he -aaghk!"

With his voice suddenly stolen, the Steward stammered, attempting to mouth words that never formed. He clutched at the starched high collar of his coat, allowing the Selonian to pass him by.

"Excuse the interruption, Great King, but I have uncovered evidence of partisan activity I believe you must see."

The Steward was released from his invisible stranglehold, gasping for breath. As he fell to his knees, Vissica made a small gesture, bidding the shocktrooper carrying the parcel to step forward. The box's lid was opened, and the Selonian reached inside, gripping a severed human head by his crop of red hair.

"That's Karstan!" The King's eyes went wide. "He's a Captain of my Watch. Explain yourself, Selonian!"

"I shall, Great King." Vissica replied, drawing a data disc from her utility pouch. "This file was retrieved from the assault on the destroyed partisan base. It was in possession of the late Protector Karstan."

With a gesture, King Vashakhal directed a minder to retrieve the evidence from Vissica. He promptly placed the disc into a reader at the king's dais, which projected a stream of holographic data. Vissica took the King's momentary silence as an opportunity to narrate the content.

"Highness, you will note in these messages there is evidence of collusion between the partisans and factions of the King's Watch. Not only that, but the evidence hints at a conspiracy even closer to your throne."

The Selonian's statements instigated a swell of murmurings among the court, which King Vashakhal stilled with a shout of "Enough!" The young king glowered at the Knight, his chin upturned slightly in a haughty assertion.

"Your claims are bold, Imperial. Scandalous, even. But claims are not proof."

Vissica's eyes narrowed with a rumble in her chest.

"If proof is what you desire, proof is what you shall have."

"You Imperial bastard!"

The shout came from behind, prompting Vissica to whirl about and face Steward Kaiz - now suddenly armed with a holdout blaster. Before the Selonian could arm herself, a single shot barked out, scouring the fur across her left shoulder in a graze. The shock troopers returned fire, putting rounds into the Steward and sending him to the ground. Kaiz writhed in pain, reaching for his weapon that suddenly slid across the marble floor before leaping into Vissica's hand. The Knight glanced from her singed shoulder, to the weapon, and down to the Steward, tossing the pistol away.

"Steward Kaiz, perhaps you can help demonstrate my point."

Shock troopers appeared at either side, hoisting the groaning man to his feet. He was deposited before Vissica on his knees. The Selonian splayed her right hand, the webbing between each digit stretching as she grasped his jawline.

"You'll get nothing from me, Imperial scum. Nothing!"

Vissica turned her attention away from her would-be assassin and back to the King.

"Highness, allow me to demonstrate the extent of the corruption in your court."

In light of the attempted assassination, King Vashakhal stayed his hand. The Selonian's eyes returned to Kaiz. She spoke in a voice not entirely her own.

"Are you involved in the partisan movement on Feriae Junction?"

Stoicism and defiance hardened the Steward's features - but only for a moment. His jaw quavered as he struggled to look away. Kaiz's dignity evaporated into a grimace as his last ounce of resistance failed.

"Yes!"

Audible gasps sounded in the court at the Steward's admission. The confessor's eyes met his king.

"Forgive me, Your Grace!"

King Vashakhal did not conceal the surprise on his face. He looked to members of his court, then to the Selonian, then back to his steward. Vissica addressed the king, keeping Kaiz well in hand.

"What would you have of this man, Highness?" she asked, whiskers raised.

Put between a rock and a hard place, the King had far fewer options than it seemed. With his closest advisor working contrary to his edict, it was betrayal broadcast openly and in the presence of a powerful adversary. The King could not afford to let this contagion spread.

"My apologies, Knight. It seems that my steward has led me astray. In the interests of good relations between Feriae and the Galactic Empire, I submit Steward Kaiz to Imperial justice."

Kaiz blanched, fear cut deeply into his age lines.

"Majesty! I've done only what is best to protect us! You don't know wh-"

Vissica seized the Steward by his hair, wrenching his head back to look her in the eyes.

"Listen to your groveling, you traitor!"

The cool of the Selonian's demeanor suddenly caught fire as she bared her teeth at the condemned man.

"You stand before your king, guilty of breaking your oath, and have the audacity to tell him what he must do? You have confessed. Now you earn a traitor's death."

Vissica released her hold of Kaiz, taking a step behind him. The disgraced Steward again looked towards his young king, realizing at the last moment that Vashakhal's child-like astonishment from a moment before had tempered back into the aloof mask of a royal.

"Highness, I'm..."

ZWOOM!

The column of white energy bursting from the Steward's chest ended the man's final words. Kaiz writhed in place, shock-numbed hands attempting to reach for the impaling instrument, succeeding only in severing clumsy fingers into the energy. From behind, Vissica watched the man spiral down his mortal wound. She took a long step back, using it to draw free the full length of her blade. No sooner did the greatsaber draw out through the Steward's back then the Knight sent it hurtling into a full-bodied swing, severing the man's head from his neck before his body could pitch to the floor.

Kaiz's severed head rolled free from his body, tumbling forward until it came to a rest to stare up at the king he betrayed.

Vissica's eyes fixed upon her bloody deed, then slowly drew upwards to the King. She extinguished her weapon.

In the aftermath of Steward Kaiz's execution, the court of Feriae fell into stunned silence. The Selonian Knight coolly regarded the severed head that stared up at it's former master, and considered the demonstration of violence to be an educational reminder for a young king who should know his place. Vissica reached over her shoulder, securing her greatsaber back into it's scabbard with a metallic clank.

"Your Highness, it is unfortunate that your Steward's betrayal necessitated his death. I believe that he indeed acted contrary to your wishes, and that his villainy does not represent the people of Feriae Junction."

Vissica seemed to ponder her words, tugging lightly at the tuft of fur at her chin as she approached the throne.

"I believe there is no reason why we should be enemies."

King Vashakhal's regal poise had given way to the frightened eyes of a child. He shook his head, to which Vissica bowed hers.

"Good."

The Selonian stooped down before the throne, reaching low to retrieve Kaiz's severed head by grasping his hair. She hoisted the ghastly remnant to eye level, appraising it as one might look over a costly vase.

"A ruler should be wise and just, Great King. They should also be feared. This is my gift to you."

With both hands, Vissica presented the head for Vashakhal to inspect. The boy's first impulse was to retreat back into his throne, but he remained at the seat's edge, looking at the imperial with a dawning understanding.

"So that defiance is known to be met with punishment?" the young ruler asked. Vissica's chest rumbled. She passed the severed head to the adjacent shock trooper, parceling it up in the box which previously housed Protector Karstan's remains.

"That is correct, Majesty. Fear underpins a sound doctrine of rule. Rule through fear has certain preventative qualities. Look to your court."

Vissica's head turned along with the King's, taking in the rightfully-intimidated members of the Feriae nobility.

"If there is another treasonous snake among your minders, they now know that you are capable of using any necessary means to secure your right to rule. Now would be a good time to determine which among them should take Kaiz's place as steward, while this lesson is fresh in their minds."

The Knight took a step away from the throne, allowing Vashakhal enough space to view the gallery without the Selonian looming in the periphery.

"Baron Sorrau."

A balding man with flush cheeks gaped, singled out by nobles shifting away from him. His jowled face quivered slightly.

"Me, Your Highness?!"

Fearful and fawning, Vissica speculated wordlessly as she watched. If her appraisal was correct, he'd make for a far less ambitious choice than Kaiz.

"I choose you to serve in my court with the duties of Steward." Vashakhal raised a hand off the arm rest of his throne. "Step forward and kiss my signet."

Baron Sorrau waddled more than walked, his rotund features betraying a lifestyle of soft excess. A shade more pale than before, the Baron daubed his glistening head with a kerchief, pocketing it as he stood next to the Knight. He dared not make eye contact with Vissica as he timidly pressed his thin lips against Vashakhal's signet ring.

"I thank you for your service, Steward Sorrau." the young king met the older man's small dark eyes.

"H-honored....honored, Your Grace. Of course."

Vissica watched the nomination with inscrutable eyes. Her tail thumped the marble floor as she tucked her fingers beneath the lower edge of her armor cuirass.

"Now with your power structure restored, Good King, I invite you to travel with me to Imperial Center."

The Selonian extended a hand.

"You would be a guest of my Empress."

The King's expression turned thoughtful and somber.

"You mean that I would become her hostage."

The Selonian's brow raised and lowered slightly.

"The two are not mutually exclusive, Your Highness. The lesson I have taught you today is but a taste of what the Empress could show you."

* * *

She had called out to Shuvin as the younger Togruta dashed off, following the sound of a muffled voice. She stood there, unsure if she should follow or simply stay where she was. Even as the boy started off, Cerie bit her lip in a show of lingering uncertainty. It was a feeling that ultimately didn't last long, and she set off at a brisk walk, rounding a debris pile to see...

Oh stars above and the Emperor's Black Bones.

Her pace quickened as she surged forward at the site of Ben.

"Ben!"

Barreling past Loki, the blonde hopped over chunks of durracrete as she kept her eyes on the bizarrely lucky son-of-a-bitch that had let her into his little family. And in a way, he'd become family to her as well (though she would never... ever admit it out loud). Cerie skidded to enough of a halt, and though she still held the Westars in both hands, her momentum bringing her in a controlled sort of crash into the two as she wrapped her arms as far around both Ben and Shuvin as she could. She held on tightly.

Nothing really to say, honestly. Sometimes words just weren't enough.

As the tearful reunion commenced, a shadow moved across the meadow in the distance, accompanied by an unnatural whirring sound. With a hiss of servos, the Arakyd Viper probe droid floated on an air cushion, it's manipulator arms twitching and dangling as it's bulbous head fixated on a point of interest in the distance. The droid slowed to a crawl, then paused outright. It's dome-shaped main ocular focused, zooming in on a group of four humanoids gathered among the wreckage. One in particular stood out. Humanoid female, blonde hair. 95% match probability.

The droid's stout antenna extended from it's head.

"Hey, hey," Ben laughed and coughed simultaneously. "I'm fine, I'm fine. How're you?"

Shuvin punched him without truly letting him go.

"Ah! Alright, alright. I missed you too."

He smiled and hugged his two girls back, and looked up, his good cheer fading but not entirely disappearing from his face. "And who's this?"

Shuvin pushed back and wiped her eyes, glancing back at Loki.

"Ah, this fella's name is Loki. We met at the star port. Seemed down on his luck, so I talked to him and had some tea — not like that! — and when you called — what was with that, you big jerk! Ain't no way I was just going to sit there! (she punched his arm again; "Ah, stop it with the punching!") — he helped me save Cerie, and came with us to come get you."

Ben clambered to his feet, squeezing Cerie's shoulder and smiling at her, and let Shuvin drag him over to the boy.

"Mister Loki," he said, only slightly awkward. His tone still carried vestiges of the care and warmth he'd gleaned from the hug, but there was a healthy dose of caution in his demeanor too. "You've done Shuvin some help, and I'm grateful to you for it."

He extended his hand.

"Captain Ben," he said, in greeting. The handshake was firm and short, the way a handshake should be. He considered the man, and then the smouldering ruins in sight just behind him, "You are a lucky man."

It was, admittedly, a rather staggering understatement, given the state of things. How the captain had emerged from the ashes of a veritable hell on earth, practically unscathed, was the sort of mystery that gave vital breath to superstition. As such, Loki dwelt instead upon his good fortune to have someone like Shuvin looking out for him. Their embrace had been fierce, and shameless, and, almost certainly, of a father-daughter sort. They clearly cared for each other - even Loklorien s'Ilancy had made a meal of it, throwing herself at them, in full embrace of this bizarre Cerie persona of hers - it was nice.

What hadn't been nice was how Shuvin had elected to introduce him, as if he was some unfortunate tag-along, to be humoured and pitied. He turned, and looked back towards the city, partly to avoid small-talk, partly to make himself feel useful.

"Our run-in with the stormtroopers will make it difficult to re-enter the city. And the starport will be crawling with Imperials. We may have a fight on our hands."

Ben coughed again, following Loki's gaze and then up to the Destroyer hovering over the city.

"Well," he said, his face grim. "Now that's a sight I can always go without. Though, I have to ask."

He turned to Cerie.

"What in the world are you wearing that uniform for, Cerie?"

It was a strange look that Cerie made in that moment; raised brows over wide, rolling eyes as she pulled a rather exasperated face, and mouth open in the beginning stages of a non-verbal 'see what had happened was... '

Of course, what ended up finally coming out was... almost exactly that.

"Look, I went out for Space Scout cookies," a shrug, the Westars coming up on either side of her with the motion. "I thought it would net us a discount on a bunch of them."

And then came the validation.

"And it did. I had so many boxes. Stowaways, Slim-Mints, Zeltrons, Hyperlanes, all of them. Multiple. Boxes."

But of course the reality of it all was a shade different now.

"And what, the Empire stole them?" Ben asked, crossing his arms. "Besides, how much could you have possibly saved from pretending to be Alliance? Look at where we are, Cerie. Look at that."

Ben pointed at the Star Destroyer sitting over the city as he started walking towards the speeder.

"Come on, folks. Let's get now while the gettin's good." He said in aside, and continued with the previous line of conversation. "Now I'm not sayin' that didn't happen," he said. "But you have to wonder who'd give a uniformed Alliance lady a discount on Space Scout cookies here of all places. Dac? Sure. Here? I'm pretty sure this is becoming..."

Shuvin stood and brushed off her legs, smiling and feeling somewhat shaky due to the intense emotional swings she'd gone through so far today.

"Loki," she called, moving to catch up with the boy while Ben and Cerie moved on further ahead to the speeder. He half turned to look at her. "Oh don't be so touchy. Honestly, it's like you look for the worst possible way to take what someone says about you."

She stepped forward and hugged him.

"Thank you. For helping me with Cerie and coming with to help with Ben. Not a lot of people would have done so much for someone that's basically a stranger," she breathed onto his shoulder.

The stormtroopers had set up a temporary OP, utilizing the remnants of a bombed-out tack room at the ranch. The roof and two walls had collapsed, but the detritus was easily pushed away to afford cover in two directions if needed. A small holoprojection table had been set up, illuminated with a topographical map of the area. And at the head of it, Captain Orgern was having a lousy day.

"Patrol three reports no life signs, as far to the north as the high ridge. We're still checking out the grid with the dried out creek bed, but initial flyovers don't pick up anything."

Reikkel leaned forward, tucking a biscuit into his mouth as he pointed out an artifact on the board that suddenly changed color.

"Looks like a life form contact." He spoke after swallowing, zooming in on the probe droid. "Do we have a data feed?"

"Incoming now, sir." the trooper nodded, manning the terminal to talk with the viper probe. From the red-tinted droid token, a new holographic image flickered, hovering above the topography. A group of four humanoids came into view. Silhouettes at first, small and blurry. The magnification intensified and focus slowly sharpened. Captain Orgern bolted straight, tossing aside his commandeered box of cookies as he shook the comms tech by the shoulder.

"Call up ground support from Decimator to those coordinates at once!"

Breaking out in a sprint, the Captain quickly donned his slope-edged army helmet as he charged toward the ITT speeder keeping it's motor warm.

"First squad! With me!"

A flurry of activity broke out at the OP as a dozen stormtroopers quickly hoisted their rifles and packs, falling in step with Orgern as the hatch doors of the Imperial Troop Transport opened. Captain Orgern paused only to flag down a pair of scout troopers, pointing frantically to their parked bikes. He didn't need to say a word to get them to mount up.

Within a minute, they were on the move.

"Well," Cerie made a face as she and Ben walked side by side.

"... It's not like I used the full uniform, just the fatigues; and even these things are ratty as all get-out."

There was a defensive tone to her voice, and the blonde gave a hmph as she stuffed one of the Westars into the back of her pants.

One hand now free, Cerie reached up to peel away the prosthetic scar bisecting her right eye. Another dissatisfied grunt, and she dropped the thing into the dirt a split second before crushing it underfoot. She'd have to wait until they got back to Alderaan before removing the white contact.

"Besides," she went on in a tone a bit more subdued, "we're closer to Alliance space than Imperial space, so I figured it wouldn't be so much of an issue."