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| The Journey by Jedi Gepper |
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He had no choice but to apologize.
That was the way it seemed, as he stood there, dumbfounded. That ship, that scrap pile of a Rebel freighter had simply disappeared. He was sure it had no cloaking device. So, where was it? How did it escape his seemingly solid grasp? What did it matter now?
Having recovered somewhat from the initial shock of the loss of his prey, Captain Lorth Needa nodded to himself, took a deep breath, and declared his intentions to his subordinate.
"I will take responsibility for having lost them and apologize to Lord Vader." He left his equally astounded subordinate with orders to continue the search for the vessel and its traitorous passengers as he proceeded to a shuttle for his rendezvous with Vader's Executor. He left the bridge of the Star Destroyer Avenger with an air of calm and evident confidence, as any well-trained Imperial officer would.
Captain Needa walked down the various corridors towards the docking bay. He kept to himself, occasionally nodding the appropriate acknowledgements to the passing crewmembers, doing so almost mechanically. News of the failure had not yet reached these parts of the ship, but it would not be long. News of any kind traveled quickly. It served to break up the monotony of the average day on the ship.
Avenger not being a small ship by any means, the walk to the shuttle bay took time. Captain Needa had more than adequate time to do some thinking. It was not a process he relished.
Years ago, Lorth Needa was just another young man needing a direction in life. The Empire had all the appearances of a good choice. It had purpose. It had meaning. One could become lost in it, or one could distinguish him. All one had to do was make the effort. So it seemed. After recruitment and officer training, Needa made the steady and inevitable rise in the ranks of the officers. It was in no insignificant part due to his skills in leadership, organization and responsibility, of course. However, it was difficult not to notice that those who reached the upper echelons of the Empire did not last long in that position. Competition was fierce, jealousy abounded, and serving solely for the greater glory of the Empire was more an exercise in lip service than anything else. Officers battled one another to reach the top, but many soon found that this was not necessarily the most rewarding place to be.
The Empire was draconian in its rules and their enforcement. It could also be capriciously vicious when displeased. When anyone spoke of the Empire as an entity, they did so only not to give voice to the true fear they all shared, that of the Emperor himself and his mysterious but deadly right hand, Darth Vader. Rumors were rampant about this Lord Vader. He was thought to have been human once, and the theories as to how he came to be suited entirely in black, and to breathe as he did, was both wild and largely unsubstantiated. They did unwittingly serve a purpose, however. They created a being who invoked feelings of awed respect in some, measured fear in others, and outright terror in all the rest.
Captain Needa could inwardly confess to all of these feelings at various times.
This was the man he was going to meet now and to whom he was to apologize.
As he continued towards the docking bay, he felt a knot forming in his stomach.
Captain Needa had seen Darth Vader on several occasions, none of them particularly significant outside of the presence of the Dark Lord himself. He had heard the stories, though. He had heard about the power of the Force that Vader wielded with ease. He had heard from one of the few officers to get off of the Death Star alive, before that suicidal Rebel attack, of an incident where the Sith Lord had choked another officer simply by using his mind while making a mocking comment to the man about his lack of faith in the Force. Grand Moff Tarkin, having been lost on the Death Star, had kept Vader on a leash of sorts. Now, with the Emperor not taking direct control of this Rebel threat, Vader was free to act as he wished. Recent results were not promising for the musing captain.
Since the Rebels had been discovered to be on Hoth, Lord Vader had grown increasingly agitated, bordering on obsessive behavior. With every Rebel ship that got away, with each hint they got of impending Imperial action, Vader's reactions were becoming more swift and brutal. Admiral Ozzel was one of his most recent targets, and his execution brought the promotion of Captain Piett to admiral. Needa saw no such good fortune in his future. He saw with frightening clarity that his path was probably that of Admiral Ozzel.
This brought Captain Needa back to the Rebel freighter, the Millenium Falcon. Needa only remembered the name now because it seemed so odd to him. It apparently had several aliases, and its pilot had been involved in the assault on the Death Star. This ship was obviously a high priority. Captain Needa seemed to recall that this ship had a Wookie co-pilot. How unusual, he thought. Wookies were not that bright, or so his training had told him. How could they pilot a starship?
As his mind ran through this and many other random thoughts, he realized suddenly that he had arrived at the docking bay. All of the trivial thoughts escaped his mind. He saw the shuttle before him, and his thoughts were locked on that. He saw his path again before him, and it scared him.
To get on that shuttle, to travel to the Executor, that was suicide. It was certain death. He stood there, only a few meters from the shuttle, staring blankly at it.
"Captain?" He heard a voice coming from somewhere.
"Captain, are you ready to board, sir?"
Needa's concentration was broken. A shadow of annoyance passed over his face. He looked distractedly at the young ensign beside him who stood expectantly awaiting the captain's answer. He regained himself and responded.
"Yes, ensign. Prepare the shuttle for take-off."
"Yes, sir." The ensign nodded briskly and headed up the ramp.
Captain Needa stared at that ramp now. He had committed himself to this much, at least. He proceeded up the ramp that elevated to closing as he arrived onboard. The captain headed towards the rear of the shuttle, away from the pilot area. The ensign would not need him and knew where to find him. Captain Needa arrived in a small but welcoming room, designed for the comfort of traveling officers such as him. Nothing about it had that feel now, though. It seemed like a holding cell.
He felt the shuttle rise off of the docking bay. He sensed the acceleration as it cleared the doors. More nonsense crowded his mind. He wondered how old that ensign was. Did he aspire to be a TIE fighter pilot as well, or was shuttling officers good enough for him? He realized that he did not know how long this trip would be. He doubted it would be long. He wondered if Lord Vader would send an escort to meet the shuttle, or would he deign to meet it himself? He doubted the latter. Captain Needa would be lead to the Dark Lord and there make his apology.
His apology. Even the word sounded hollow and useless to him. How could apologizing help anyone to find the errant Rebel ship? Vader may even see weakness in the attempt. He may wonder why this overly sensitive captain had not stayed aboard his own ship and continued directing his part of the search from there. If Lord Vader had wanted to see him, certainly he would send work to the Avenger.
Captain Needa thought that maybe this trip was more of an error in judgment than staying aboard his ship would have been.
No, this was not a mistake. To have failed to capture the vessel and made no direct acknowledgement to Vader would have been more of an insult. He was making the right decision about the apology, but knowing that did not make it any easier or more palatable as a choice. He was so certain of the response. It was death, pure and obvious.
This realization struck him. Yes, he had thought of it as the likely result, but it had not previously hit him quite so acutely. He was going to die. His career was over. His career? His life itself was over, and it was going to end unceremoniously, becoming just another of Vader's long line of casualties.
Captain Needa was not a deep thinker. When the Empire had destroyed Alderaan, he had hardly blinked an eye. When civilians died on any number of worlds while his Avenger hung in orbit, he read the statistics, but took none of to heart. He never saw individuals; he saw Imperial progress. He never saw suffering and pain; he saw the establishment of galactic justice and order.
Now it was his turn to suffer this form of justice. He knew it. He felt it to his core. Why had he never taken in any of these sensations before today? Why did it just now dawn on him what the Empire was truly doing, in what a scheme he had played a willing and unthinking part? He was about to become a victim of his own crimes.
With acceptance of his certain punishment, Needa began to grasp at anything that may get him out of it. Like any man about to die against his wishes, he seizes at any desperate or pathetic chance at life.
Captain Needa had one of those ideas that come to men in his position. He could kill the shuttle pilot.
Yes, that was certainly an option. He could kill this hapless young ensign, take over as the pilot, and then shuttle off to any destination he chose. His life in the Imperial service was clearly over, but he had developed many skills that could aid him on a myriad of worlds. He did not have any definite ideas on what sort of career he might have, but anything was better than abrupt and undesired death before an indifferent audience.
Needa became almost feverish as he plotted this course of action. The ensign was a slight young man, and he clearly had no reason to suspect anything. While Needa had never killed a man face to face, he was sure he could do it. He had passed all of the simulations with high marks. Why would this be any different, really?
Why? Captain realized that it would not be any different than what Vader was about to do to him. Unfortunately for Needa, he was not Lord Vader. He was crushed to realize that he could no more kill the ensign than he could escape the commanding reach of Vader in the galaxy. He was far too cowardly to kill a man directly. Even if he were to escape in the shuttle, the Dark Lord would find him in short order. The Millenium Falcon would soon be old news in light of this treason by a high-ranking officer.
The silence of the room was becoming oppressive. Needa had nowhere to go. His life was over, and he felt it. He had never really known dejection in his life, not like this. He had had disappointments, he had had irritations, but never had things been so completely hopeless as this. Morbidly, he thought, they never would be again.
The shuttle decelerated. Captain Needa shuffled towards the cockpit. The focused young ensign brought the shuttle to a smooth landing in a docking bay of the Executor. Captain Needa scanned the bay but saw no signs of Lord Vader. He had a few minutes to live, at least.
As he descended the shuttle ramp, Admiral Piett met him. The two officers exchanged brief and formal nods. They knew each other only by name and reputation. The forced conversation, however, had more to do in this situation by how well each knew what was expected in the coming encounter.
"Captain, this way please." The admiral waved shortly for Needa to follow him.
Through corridors and up turbolifts, both men remained silent. Captain Needa saw the end approaching for him, and he could not help but think that the newly dubbed Admiral had some reservations concerning his own future.
They arrived on the bridge deck. As the two men approached the central administrative area from which the ship was run, Captain Needa saw only one image. Before him, his back to the approaching officers was the long, flowing cape of Lord Vader. He was stationary, looking out in silence on the activity before him on the bridge, the only sound coming from him that of his mechanical breathing. He was such an imposing presence, so intimidating. Captain Needa knew why. He had always known why. It was his turn to become an example. He took one last deep breath as Admiral Piett approached Darth Vader.
"My Lord, Captain Needa from the Avenger." Piett waved in Needa's direction.
The Sith Lord turned slowly. His image alone filled Captain Needa's entire scope of vision, the whole of his thoughts and feelings. Vader paused, emanating nothing except that horror that was implied in his breathing. Captain Needa could only wait for his part in the playing out of his fate. Finally, as the seemingly endless pause came to an end, Lord Vader spoke.
"I have been awaiting your apology, Captain Needa."
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