Honor thy Enemy

[General Rakev]

One year ago...

Iria buttoned the last button at the neck of her tunic and folded the collar over, looking at herself in the mirror as she finished her early morning routine. It was something she'd done by muscle memory for years. From her childhood days in the Caridan Military Academy, to her days in the Officer Corps in the Imperial Army, and through her short and bright career, she'd never strayed from her destiny as a military woman.

The pips on her uniform were those of a Colonel, and she'd fought fiercely for them in the Imperial Army. Unlike the Navy, where bright and disciplined women could find easy success, the Army had remained a Boy's Club of a sort. What separated Iria Rakev from her male peers was something in short supply and high demand - Caridan upbringing and discipline. The military caste of Carida had a long-standing tradition of distinguished service across multiple theatres. Even before the Galactic Republic formed its own army, Caridan officers were called on in the occasional and far-flung conflicts throughout the galaxy. They developed a reputation for brilliant thinking, daring initiative, and strict discipline.

The war against the Confederacy had brought the Caridan tradition for martial excellence to the forefront. Iria's father had commanded clone armies, and fought alongside Jedi Knights under orders of the Senate and the Chancellor. By the time that the Republic had become the Empire and the Jedi were cast out as traitors, Iria was already a junior officer. By then, the rich military heritage of Carida was married to a true purpose of Galactic unification. Her early career in the Imperial army was this singular pursuit. She helped to conquer worlds, to secure the homefront, and to pursue the rebellion to the fringes of the galaxy in pursuit of relentless victory.

So how had it all gone wrong?

Iria stared straight ahead at her reflection, awash in a mixture of emotion. How could she not feel pride in her uniform, the symbol of her lifelong committment and dedication to the Empire, and to finally bringing the galaxy together under one rule, as it had been for thousands of years? Somewhere along the line, her zeal and dedication had crossed paths with something ugly. The Emperor's New Order seemed to renounce entire races as disloyal on a weekly basis. Entire civilizations were dispersed, either to work camps, to military colonies, or were even executed. The stormtrooper corps, which she had commanded alongside army regulars, were never fully trustworthy. She'd seen more than a few legions of stormtroopers turn against the chain of command that controlled them, under orders of the Emperor. There was no due process. Comrades she worked with for years were ground under the system with the slightest insinuation of disloyalty.

It all led back to the here and now. Colonel Iria Rakev turned from the mirror, collected her attache case and duffel, and exited her quarters for the last time, dimming the lights as she left.

There was no going back now.

[General Rakev]

"Colonel."

The stormtrooper guards at her quarters stood to attention as she left, and flanked her as she strode down the hall. She tilted the brim of her army cap downward, and spoke with a no-nonsense clip to her voice, as she passed a dataslip to one trooper.

"Send this itinerary to flight control. I will be leaving at seven hundred hours promptly. I want no delays."

"Yes Colonel."

Rakev continued on with one of the troopers as she performed her early morning inspections. She would keep up appearances until the very last. One by one, she briskly inspected each section and station in her battallion.

"Lieutenant, I want your calibration report on this artillery."

She gestured idly for the subordinate to stand at ease and deliver his report. She took the datapad, thumbed through it, and passed it off with disinterest.

"Adequate. Make sure to keep all guns slave-condition ready. Fire support is useless without volume effect."

She didn't wait to address the Lieutenant further.

Thirty minutes later, she was standing on the tarmac at the Imperial garrison at Habria. Her stormtrooper guards once again flanked her as a black-uniformed pilot stood ready on the tarmac.

"Captain Vek, you are flight rated for the Sentinel shuttle I assume."

It wasn't a question as much as it was talking to take up space. The Captain rattled off his certifications for the ship they were about to board, and she cut him off mid-stride.

"Good enough, prepare the shuttle. I don't want to dawdle on the tarmac, and I have a strict schedule to keep."

"At once, Colonel."

Rakev, Captain Vek, and the two stormtroopers boarded the ship, and within moments, they were aloft in the air, the Imperial craft's air foils lazily sloping down for flight mode.

Once beyond the grasp of Habria's atmosphere, Iria calmly typed a six digit code on a wrist-comm as she sat reviewing reports. The code was pre-arranged months ago, and was encoded and piggybacked through HoloNet on a "trash band" not used by Imperial protocol.

Inwardly, Iria was afraid. There was no shame in fear. Fear pushed a person's edge and made them perform at their best. She had most certainly done so, but even still, there was a high chance that her desperate plan would fail, and she would be discovered.

If she were discovered, she would be killed.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Fondor Sector - Imperial Space

Scanners picking up a whole lotta nothing, Green Leader, quipped Green Two of this X-Wing squadron. They were nine in all, including Gold Leader.

At this edge of space, there won't be much, if anything. We picked this spot for a reason. Long as our package does their part, this should be a simple Op.

Green Two and Eight, cut the chatter. Eyes peeled to space or your scanners. The response was crisp and sharp, the very essence of professionalism that Assistant Director Van-Derveld was known for. This was actually somewhat out of character for her. It wasn't too often she was leading fight pilots into combat, but considering the package being delivered, it was worth it to be more active in this mission.

Sorry, Gold Leader, they said in unison.

Wait! Hold up! I got something on long range! Position 3 8 Niner at .5.

Grace smirked at Green Three's enthusiasm and focused her scan in that area. Copy that. I've got the silhouette. Imperial Sentinel. That's our target. Move into positions.

A series of 'Copy That' fluttered through the comm and the nine X-Wings fanned out of formation.

Green Five. Do your thing.

On it Gold Leader. Jamming their communications now.

You know the mission. Target engines and weapons to cripple it. Once we're done, the Hindustan we'll take over.

They broke up into three pairs of two and one of three, with Green Leader and Two flanking Gold Leader. Engines at full, the tiny speck of the Imperial Shuttle started to grow in size.

S-Foils in attack formation!

The pilots complied and that was when the Shuttle opened fired with the Quad laser cannons. Green Three and Four easily spun free from any damage as Green Eight and Seven opened fired - the deflector shields absorbing the impact.

Green Five and Six zoomed passed the shuttle and scored a direct hit, causing the rear deflector shields to fizzle out. Grace swooped in with a perfect hit to their engines as her wingmates made sure that they were completely inoperable with two more direct hits.

Take it easy everyone. That shuttle is delicate now. We don't want to hit 'em too hard and loose our cargo. Green Five and Six? One more pass to take out those weapons then I'll call in clean up crew.

Copy that, Gold Leader.

As ordered, the two X-Wings made a pass and fired two shots to take out the quad lasers. The shuttle was crippled and wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

All right boys and girls. Patrol the area and keep those scanners warm. We don't know when trouble might show up before we reel in our catch. I'm calling it in.

Switching to a low frequency beacon, Grace put in the all clear call to the MC40a light cruiser that was waiting in hyperspace. It only took five seconds for it to appear in normal space.

Good work Van-Derveld. We'll take it from here, came the commanding voice of Captain Pekara of the Mon Calamari. A tractor beam snared the shuttle and slowly brought it to the under belly of the cruiser.

Thank you, Captain. OK everyone. Back to the barn everyone. And good work.

[General Rakev]

The deed was done. Aboard the sentinel shuttle, panic ensued. Captain Vek looked shocked. The attack had happened so fast that he'd barely had time to spring into action. The Stormtroopers were less phased by the encounter. They rose from their places and armed weapons, taking defensive positions at the shuttle's gangplank entrance, determined to resist until death.

"We will prevent your shuttle from being boarded, Colonel."

Such dogmatic fervor. Iria would admire the characteristic if it were used to take a stand for anything of value. Even if it did, it was in flagrant ignorance of the reality of the situation. There was absolutely no chance of successfully resisting the Rebels now. The Colonel also knew better than to tell them this. These soldiers were the political extension of the Imperial politburo, in whatever state of disrepair as it might be. An order for them to abdicate their destiny would possibly be met with her own death, absurd as the concept was.

Instead, Rakev stepped toward the cockpit, and to the frantic Captain.

"Captain, I want weapons available. Work on this."

The black-clad officer looked up at Iria with what was certain hopelessness, as the shuttle gently thumped its landing gear against the Rebel warship's landing deck. Boarding would be imminent.

...yes Colonel. Of course."

With Vek distracted, Colonel Rakev took her place at the gangplank, standing behind her stormtrooper guard. She drew her blaster pistol from her officer's holster, and leveled it at the still-closed door.

"Do your duty."

With the stormtroopers fixated on the door, Colonel Rakev suddenly broke from her aim point, deviating to the back of the nearest trooper's helmet. She fired, and adjusting her aim in rapid succession, killed the second guard just as quickly.

By the time the Rebels had forced the gangplank, Iria was leveling the blaster at Captain Vek as well.

"Captain, rescind my order. There is no point in dying over nothing."

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Rebel soldiers took up position on the gang plank, leveling their blaster rifles at Captain Vek. They would not shoot, unless ordered by Van-Derveld, who watch with silent interest as to how their newest defector handled the situation. However, if it did not play well in Rakev's favor, she would have no issue ordering her men to gun down the Captain if things turned sour.