Star Wars: Brave Misdeeds

Chapter 1

"Brave misdeeds are often times the result of naive courage flailing against the injustices of righteousness."                                                                                                                                                                     

               —Lord Adalric Cessius Brandl, actor (from Holonet Report: What Makes a Successful Tragic Persona)

What is the definition of bravery?

Sitting in the midst of swaying meadow grass that was tall as her waist, Soelle Khiss kept vigil on a nondescript knoll. She rested her chin on her drawn-up knees and peered from that safe distance down into the city of Battlefront on the planet Talus. An ill-forgotten sister of its more popular system mate, the planet Corellia, Talus maintained a subtle balance between a few sprawling metropolises, fertile flatlands, and unexplored mountains and wilderness. The adopted home of the Aa'kuans, confirmed anarchists and religious zealots, the planet remained mostly untouched, unfettered by any rampant development or societal upheaval. However, that reality was swiftly changing, as the name of the city below would suggest.

A placid breeze rolled out of the southwest, bringing with it the pungent scent of distant ocean brine, intermingled with the aroma of fresh water. The scent was pleasant enough, but faint, filtered through the modified rebreather built into her scout trooper helmet. Made to be more flexible than the standard assault armor issued to stormtroopers, the armor was lightweight, close fitting at the joints, and designed to move with her like a second skin. Regardless, like all armor, it was designed for protection, not comfort. Nor was it especially tailored to be worn by females, Human or otherwise.

Beneath the tight-fitting neckline of the armor, Soelle wore a leather slave collar. It was nearly two centimeters wide. Weathered thin by age and exposure, it itched unmercifully, especially where the clamp pinched her skin. Thus annoyed, she stretched her neck to the left side, then to the right, relieving her irritated skin by chafing it against the rubber interior of the custom-made environmental suit. As a result of the strain, her neck cracked audibly and she yelped in unexpected pain. Regardless, she harbored no ill thoughts about the armor's snug fit or the strange accoutrement from her former life. The armor, like the collar, was a part of her being. Without them, she felt vulnerable, naked, and incomplete.

A petite figure, Soelle stood out in sharp contrast against the undulating green meadows and moderate hills of Talus. Pulling her knees against her chest, she rocked slightly to and fro to a rhythm that existed only within her head. Below her, on the outskirts of the aptly named Rebel town of Battlefront, a small war was finally winding down. On the northern flank of the city, built on a particularly flat section of verdant grassland, near the curving profile of a wide river, the burned out ruins of three Rebel bases smoked as an inferno of heat and flames licked at the remains of crumbled duracrete and other debris. 

 Shrouded in a thick blanket of smoke, corpses littered the ground. Both Rebel and Imperial, the dead lay in erratic paths alongside the destroyed bases, telling the tale of the battle that had been waged: on one side to fiercely defend the bases and on the other, the fierce battle to destroy them. On this day, the destroyers prevailed.

One base remained standing among the rubble. Soelle glanced at the datapad strapped to her left wrist. Three minutes left. By the end of those three minutes, the final base would detonate and explode, joining its fellows in the realm of fiery nonexistence. As it should be with all Rebel bases, Soelle thought with a proud grin. Her handiwork led to the bases being destroyed. She was a Special Forces operative, an Operations Protocol Officer, more aptly known as a base-buster—a specifically trained Imperial soldier whose sole purpose was to get into a Rebel base, find each of its five control terminals, and wire them for self-destruction. Skill was a valued commodity among base-busters, while longevity in the profession was lacking. The more efficient the skill, the faster the base could be brought down. A faster time meant less chance of discovery and greater chances of survival for the team.