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| Why Imperial Officers Do Not Socialize by Jedi Gepper |
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Life had been very stressful for the officers of the Empire as of late. The persistent troublemakers of the Rebellion were causing far more stress than they merited, and it was leaving those in command at their wit's end. Those of the highest rank caught the brunt of the abuse, and the brunt could refer to anything from a verbal dressing down to a quick trip out of an airlock. It was no surprise that Darth Vader caused many an officer to stay awake at night or to wake suddenly with a tightening of the throat from a nightmare. A chance to get away from it, albeit briefly, was really all that any of the officers could want. They may have been envied throughout the galaxy for their prestige and power, but the officers, well, they knew all that this duty entailed.
It was a cold night out in the depths of the galaxy. The Super Star Destroyer Executor loomed silently in the blackness. For once, Lord Vader had seen fit to leave the ship on a visit to the Emperor. This left Admiral Ozzel in charge, a man of little imagination but a temper to compensate. For just this once, though, it appeared that the admiral might have come up with a good idea. He took it upon himself, in the Dark Lord's absence, to assemble his immediate subordinate, Captain Piett, the Avenger's captain Needa, and a rising star of the Empire's ground forces, General Veers for a night of socializing and relaxation, free from the shadow of the oppressive Sith Lord.
Ozzel paced anxiously about his spacious quarters, fretting over how his party would react to his opulent apartments. He wanted them to be jaw droppingly impressed, of course. Anything less would simply devastate him. Suddenly he remembered that the opinions of others meant nothing since he was, after all, practically third in line to lead the mighty Empire. All who opposed him would be crushed for their insolence, or so he fancied.
The first to arrive, prompt as always, was Captain Firmus Piett. Piett had never been a man for socializing, or fun, or anything that kept him from his duties. This party for him was a tedious exercise in massaging the raging ego of the admiral. He would have been happier being berated by the Empire himself.
As the door slid open, Admiral Ozzel smiled uncharacteristically at the captain.
"Firmus! So good that you could make it!" He took Piett by the shoulders and shook him to the point that Piett worried physically for his well being. Piett kept his standard stone face.
"You practically ordered my presence, admiral. I had work to do…as do you, I might add."
All semblance of cordiality drained from Ozzel's face.
"Very well…captain. Have a seat over there, make yourself a drink, and try to be a more interesting person than you are."
Piett almost brightened…almost. "As you wish, Admiral." He seated himself, made himself a drink from the bar, and decided he was already far more interesting than the blockhead admiral ever could hope to be. The two men continued in moody silence until the chime rang again. Ozzel practically jumped at the door to open it.
"Lorth! Lorth Needa! Captain, I am so glad you could make it!" This time, Ozzel grabbed the hand of this latest arriving officer and shook it violently. Needa shared Piett's previous concern for his own welfare, but he responded differently.
"Uh, thank you…thank you very much, Admiral. I, uh, don't get many social invitations, what with the war and all." Needa smiled nervously. On the couch, Piett sipped his drink, rolling his eyes.
"It's my honor, Lorth," Ozzel gushed, compensating for his increasing irritation with Piett, "I hear that you're making quite a name for yourself on the Avenger. Who knows? You could be serving on this ship soon!"
"That would certainly be an honor, sir, but I'm sure Captain Piett over there would protest that idea." He nodded to the happily seated captain. Piett glanced in his direction, nodded ever so slightly, and took another sip of his drink before responding.
"Oh, I don't know, Captain Needa," Piett mused grimly, "I was thinking you were more suited for the admiral's position."
Noting Ozzel's death-like glare at Piett, Needa desperately threw in, "Oh, thank you, Captain, but I'm quite happy aboard the Avenger for now."
Without even looking in the direction of the two men by the door, Piett replied almost jovially, "Oh, please, Lorth, call me Firmus!"
The highly uncomfortable silence held for another few seconds when Ozzel again jumped for the door, desperate for the fresh air and relieved to see General Veers on the other side.
"Maximillian! Why, it's been…"
"Are these your quarters?" Veers cut him off. He sidestepped Ozzel into the apartments, nearly knocking down Captain Needa. Veers took a quick look around before Ozzel could answer.
"They seem rather small for an admiral."
Piett smiled to himself on the couch, sipped his increasingly tasty drink again.
Admiral Ozzel was floored by the comment. Veers made his way to the bar free of invitation.
"What are you having this evening, Captain Piett?" he asked the seated man.
"Oh, I have no idea," Piett replied, swirling the reddish concoction, "I just needed a drink."
"Well, I'll try some of that, then. It seems to be working for you."
"It's very good," Piett acknowledged, "I'm well on my way to forgetting the setting."
"Then it sounds like the drink for me as well." Veers poured one for himself, sat down next to Piett, and they clinked glasses.
"Cheers, Captain."
"Cheers, General."
Needa stood practically in a corner, mentally working to keep himself from rubbing his hands together fretfully. Ozzel was turning red, far more red than the drinks that Veers and Piett were using to so nonchalantly forget the admiral's presence.
Things were getting uncomfortable, at least for Captain Needa, and he hated being uncomfortable. He practically raced for the bar, poured himself the first thing he could get into a glass without spilling it, and downed the entire glass in a matter of seconds. Piett gave him a quizzical look, sipped his own drink again. Veers raised an eyebrow and he too returned to his drink. All three men could hear a strange grinding noise somewhere in the room, undoubtedly that of Ozzel's teeth, though the sound was rapidly fading out for Needa.
"I think perhaps, Lorth, that you drank that too fast," Piett stated.
Needa felt himself sweating. He checked his forehead to confirm it and nodded.
"Yes, yes, I think I did." Needa threw himself onto the adjoining chair. "Good stuff, though…really packs a wallop."
"Indeed." Veers nodded. Ozzel continued to stand on the other side of the room. Veers now rolled his eyes, shook his head slightly and turned around towards the fuming host.
"Admiral, join us for a drink. You look tense."
"Yes, do join us," Piett chimed in, "Being so very vital to Lord Vader must be insanely stressful for you."
While he did not relax a single muscle, Ozzel did manage to answer.
"Certainly….gentlemen. Let us all have another round." He stepped up the bar, pouring drinks that came out a shade of purple, and passed them around. He could not help having to slap Needa up side the head to revive him enough to take his glass. The startled captain recovered quickly, raised his glass and proposed a toast.
"To the Empire! May she live forever!"
All the glasses were raised and clinked together. Piett noted the fact that Ozzel crashed his glass into his own just a bit too harshly.
"Careful, Admiral. I would not want you to break your fine glassware."
"It is one of the few nice things you seem to have, isn't it?" Veers added.
Ozzel neared his breaking point yet again with this comment. Fortunately, the increasingly chatty Captain Needa started in on a ramble.
"You know what I love about the Empire? Anyone can get ahead, and I mean anyone! Look at me! Who am I? I'm a nobody, and now I'm the commander of a Star Destroyer! A huge, dangerous Star Destroyer! I really don't deserve it, you know."
"Well, nobody will dispute that last point, Captain," Veers assented, "I, for one, know you don't deserve your command."
"You know, I'm always thinking that," Needa nodded earnestly, completely oblivious to having been insulted.
"I should be commanding a Star Destroyer, you know," Veers continued. "Ground assault is all very rewarding and such, but true glory rides with the space fleet."
"That, and those AT-AT walkers are walking death traps," Piett added.
"I know!" Veers suddenly became animated, "I mean, why have these ridiculous long legs with all those gears and circuits that can go wrong when you can so easily just use some sort of wheel?"
"That's always been my thought as well," Ozzel finally spoke, deciding he had to at least try to be social given that it was his party.
"I'm sorry, Admiral, did you say you had a thought?" Piett asked, "I wasn't aware that you had any in you."
Ozzel glared at the smirking Captain. "Need I remind you, Captain, that you are a guest here."
"Need I remind you, Admiral, that I am a forced guest and therefore feel no need to feign a liking for or even interest in you."
"You may leave at any time you wish, Captain Piett!"
"You know, I think I would, but I just love this drink you've made. It's reassuring to know that you carry with you at least one skill with your uniform."
"Why are we all in uniform anyhow?" Veers mused, "Are we so driven by duty that we no longer even know how to have fun."
"Well, I can't speak for you General, but I'm having a wonderful time!" Piett smiled mockingly at Ozzel. Needa woke from his stupor again.
"Vader's going to kill me, you know," he moaned. Tears were coming to his eyes.
"He'll be the death of us all, Captain," Piett consoled him. Then, glancing at Ozzel, "It'll just be sooner for some of us then others."
"Why did you look at me that way?" Ozzel shot back, "I run the Executor!"
"Run the Executor? You're lucky to remember how to get to the bridge each day!"
"How dare you!," Ozzel exploded, "You insolent twit. It is my acumen and brilliance of command that even keeps you in your position, you soulless automaton!"
"My position? Oh, you refer to the one of cleaning up after you, seeing to it that you do not do anything too clumsy or stupid as to get Vader's attention."
"Clumsy or stupid," Veers smirked, amused by the comment.
"Shut up, Veers!" Ozzel shot at him, "One shot from my turbolasers would wipe out whatever pitiful command you have!"
"You have to find the bridge first to issue such an order. I hear you have trouble with that."
"You just heard that from him!" Ozzel yelled, pointing at Piett.
"Oh," Veers said, "So, I did."
"Good recall, General," Piett complimented.
"Thank you Captain." They clinked glasses again in shared camaraderie and dislike of the temperamental admiral.
"I don't even know why I'm here!" Needa cried out and proceeded to slump in his chair and break out in full-blown tears. For one moment, Ozzel, Piett, and Veers all shared in mutual irritation with the despondent Avenger captain. Then, they were back at it.
"Why did you have this little party anyway, Admiral?" Piett started in. "Are you trying to impress us or just to delude yourself into believing you have friends?"
"I hardly need your approval to measure my worth, Captain Piett. Vader trusts me implicitly."
"You mean, of course, Lord Vader, and yes, he does trust you, admiral. He trusts that you will remain as uselessly harmless as you have been to shield him from those with more intelligence to go with their ambition."
"Men such as you, I suppose."
"I'm just cleaning up after you, Admiral."
"You may want to clean his apartment, Firmus," Veers chimed in, "It's so poorly decorated as to be laughable. I mean, does this really pass for style in the admiralty these days?"
"I did not ask your opinion on my decorating, Veers!"
"Really? That's odd because the décor is practically screaming 'Mock me!' Don't you agree, Firmus?"
"Oh, most definitely, Max. I've seen more tastefully decorated Hutt homes."
It was all Ozzel could take. To insult his command skills was one thing. To insult his decorating, well, that was something else.
"THAT'S IT! Get out! All of you, get out!"
Piett and Veers exchanged puzzled glances. Veers spoke.
"But Ozzie, we were just starting to have such a good time!"
"OUT!"
Piett and Veers each shrugged their shoulders at each other, set down what little remained of their drinks, and rose from the couch. Needa was whimpering incoherently in his chair. Ozzel slapped him awake. He stumbled out of his seat to the floor, got up enough to walk towards the exit. Piett and Veers were chatting pleasantly with each other about perhaps getting together again some time for drinks. Ozzel punched the door open for them. Piett put on his most gracious look. Veers stood behind him, smirking.
"Thanks so much, Admiral, for a splendid evening." He shook the admiral's shoulders just as had been done to him earlier in the evening, "You don't know what it means to me that we were able to talk like this."
In a very low voice, Ozzel replied, "Out."
Veers nodded, and he and Piett traded a solid, uncharacteristic laugh as they headed down the hall. Needa shuffled his way out the door. Just as Ozzel was ready to slam his hand into the door mechanism again and shut the whole evening out his memory, Needa turned abruptly and grabbed his tunic.
"Admiral, please accept my apology for this evening!"
Ozzel gave the pathetic captain a shove. "I will not accept any apologies! This has been an unmitigated disaster, and nothing would please me more than to not see any of you again!" With that, he saw to it that door slid abruptly shut before Captain Needa.
Needa, dejected, turned to walk away, muttering to himself.
"Lord Vader would have accepted my apology." |
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