Star Wars: Dar'Aliit

Chapter Nineteen: The Name of Peace

4 BBY The Director's Office

"Well done, Commander."

I nod. "Sir."

Thrawn paces the room. He stares at the artifact I've brought him, his expression scrutineers and calculating. "Have you ever seen something this beautiful, Commander?"

"It's a work of art," I say simply.

"Do you know what it is?"

"A sarcophagus."

"Indeed. Something ancient. Something truly beautiful." Thrawn dips his head, his eyes following the intricate lines. If he can parse something from them, I'd be impressed. But I'm a soldier. I don't study art.

The Director clears his throat. "Your reputation precedes you in many ways. I think this will indeed be a good fit. Your next mission will be issued soon."

Thrawn straightens up. He says nothing more.

I merely nod.

"Dismissed."

Casually, I salute and step out of the stuffy room. I exhale and glance down at my helmet. At my side the light reflects the silver off an old and broken lightsaber hilt.

Today we prevented something deadly from falling into terrorist hands. I only wish we could've done so long ago, before the fate of the universe fell into them. I pull on my helmet and walk off, the broken lightsaber knocking against my thigh with every step.

You can't change the past. But you can stop it from repeating.

#

19 BBY the Drunken Dug Bar

Booze and the BO is about the strongest smell in here. I lean over a glass of beer. The uniform feels strange after so many months of being in and out of kit. I haven't felt the hard case of my armor in weeks.

It's been almost a whole month since we limped the Krayt back to Coruscant. Admiral Rent runs the show now. A lot has changed. We aren't the Republic but the Empire, and while all operations are still running but the world feels like it's hit a standstill.

I've been in and out of this bar almost everyday after patrol work. We're glorified police right now, trying to keep down the riots. People are angry. People are always angry.

I pick up my beer and chug it down before sliding in the glass for a refill from the droid. Cheering erupts from a corner. Bolo ball game is on. The bar I'm at is full of dead-eyed troopers in the same blue uniform and hat as me.

Someone sits down to my right. "Thought I'd find you here, sir."

I look right. "What're you doing here, Headshot? I thought you hated booze."

"Only all booze except beer." Headshot waves to the droid. He orders a round of beer for himself, looks at me, and orders another. That one he shoves my direction.

I won't turn down a good drink. "You on riot control too?" I don't know what to ask him, or what to talk about. We've all been split since we got back. Raf wasn't ever seen after the mission Nidor sent him on to Kashyyk. Booker is out there probably doing the same thing we are.

"Yep," Headshot pulls off his hat and shoves it in his pocket. "What fun have they got you doing?"

"More riot control."

Headshot laughs and downs a swig. "At least it's unhappy citizens and not a droid army."

What I wouldn't give to see a droid army. Citizens are people with lives and families. I can't take out my frustration on them. They're angry because they're not in the loop. Hell we're not even in the loop anymore. The senate just sits up there making decisions while we warm our butts on barstools.