Behind Enemy Lines

Chapter 1: The Academy

Red. Blue. An arc of scarlet. A cobalt strike. Colours dancing, clashing in the dark. Glinting green and grey. Unwavering, unmoving from their focus.

The muffled sound of marching and druids lull you from sleep, leaving the strange dream behind as your eyes open. Clinical light casts a burning sensation into your retinas as your fellow Cadets begin to stir. Empire Day had come quickly this year, with only one day left to prepare before the parade.

This year's celebration was different to those that preceded. Finally, the Cadets from the Imperial Academy would be welcomed into the fleet of Destroyers after years of training. Anticipation was building, almost humming in the air around you.

Not only was Empire Day, a 'celebration' of the Empires rise to power through the ashes of a battered Republic. It also marked the end of the Jedi Order. A traitorous group of so called peace keepers who were valiantly and swirly ended by Darth Vader and the Clone Forces. At least that's what the propaganda pushed by the Academy and the Emperor himself told the masses.

"Empire Day", you think to yourself as you pull yourself from your bunk and towards the lockers located by the far wall, past the rows for waking Cadets, "What a joke." This 'holiday' was a cruel reminder to the survivors of The Order that everything they had fought for, what your Master had fought for, was worthless in the end. A massive display of power to crush the spark of rebellion before the fire started.
As your hand reaches for the cool metal of the locker ahead of you, a voice behind startles you. Another Cadet. You never learned the names of those beside you in lectures, on parade or even in mess. It never crossed your mind to mingle alongside the others. This place was only a means to survive, not to live.

The Cadet spoke again, their hands gesturing to the locker you're attempting to open. In your half awakened state, you'd had been trying to enter their locker. "Sorry." You mutter, stepping to the side. The Cadet moves from behind to beside you, giving a soft smile as they open their locker to retrieve their uniform, "Nerves getting to you huh, Cadet Corra?" Corra, a fake surname used to gain access to the Academy, always felt foreign coming from the mouths of others when addressing you. After tomorrow's ceremony, you'll officially become Officer Corra of the Galactic Empire.

The Cadet nudges your shoulder ever so slightly to gain your attention only to be met with you swatting their hand away and your own locker opening to cover their face. That should answer their question. Your hands gather your own uniform, a starched double tunic, high collared to cover the neck along with loose dress trousers that tucked into your knee high leather boots. Unlike the standard issue uniform for officers which was a grey-green, Imperial Cadets wore grey and white uniforms in order to be recognisable among peers and the general military.

"Probably just as uncomfortable as standard issue..." You thought as you adjusted your tunics collar. No one bothered with privacy in the barracks, many Cadets had entered the academy at 13 and had moved past the embarrassment rather quickly.

You yourself had entered the Academy at 13, barely scraping entrance. You had no credits or family to buy your way into the Academy, but your skills in combat and agility spoke for themselves. Originally you were training to be a basic Trooper, under the very Clones that betrayed your Order. You had to be careful not to display too much skill, often second guessing yourself leading you to stumble on more advanced courses. It was hard to hide your Jedi training at first, but your stumbling made it just convincing enough that you may have been determined and lucky, not trained.

You must have done well enough as you were quickly moved into the Officer program after reaching 17 years old. This was early for most recruits, but not unheard of as demand for officers grew as rumours of rebellion circulated and whispers of Jedi rose in the public.