Star Wars: Heir to the Sith (Part 1) (#Wattys2018 shortlist)

Chapter 43: "You are completely expendable!"

The carrier sped into the great courtyard of the royal palace, the main headquarters of government on Farsalt. Ella knew every corner of its wide open space intimately. She was familiar with every fountain, every quiet grove, every pool that gave the palace its serene atmosphere.

But there was none of that left now. The Empire had come in force, and serenity had been crushed by ranks of armed men drilling under the menacing armoured heads of AT-AT Walkers and shadowed by the howls of TIE fighters patrolling overhead.

The carrier passed a group of boys, a hundred strong, none of whom appeared to Ella to be more than ten years old. They were watched over by a squad of stormtroopers and an officer who was issuing orders.

As the carrier slowed, she saw how the boys were ordered to strip from their fine clothes and to discard any personal items. As they were issued with grey tunics, one of them saw her and looked away, ashamed.

It was a boy she recognised. Milos Sharn, the youngest son of a senior politician who was a key member in Farsalt's opposition party to King Garrand. Then she saw another boy who she recognised. His face was blotchy from his crying, but Ella knew that he too was the son of a government official.

Lance Dare gave a discreet cough and caught Ella's eye.

"Conscripts for the stormtrooper program," he whispered, bowing his head to speak. "And hostages from Farsalt's prominent families - if they survive the training."

The officer watching the boys issued an order:

"You will board the Sentinel shuttle and be taken aboard the Malevolent. It will be a squeeze, but take it from me, you should get used to hardship. It will be easier for you if you do."

The carrier took them out of range and came to a halt a few seconds later. The senior trooper aboard waved toward two waiting stormtroopers.

"More rebel prisoners found in the forest. Lieutenant Lamat has commanded their imprisonment."

Ella and Lance stepped down from the carrier and were marched forward, through the immense arch that led into the great hallway. Like the courtyard, it had become a military zone, a place of uncompromising occupation. Here, the neat trees that grew under the palace roof and the slow moving water runs that celebrated Farsalt's oceans lost their magic. The harmony of nature and civilisation was broken again by barbarism.

And this time, the barbarism had a face.

He sat slumped in the king's chair with an air of deliberate gracelessness that mocked the prestigious auditorium. His immaculate grey uniform displayed an insignia that identified his rank, set over his heart: Four red bars above four blue.

"A commodore," Ella observed.

The officer's face was one that seemed frozen in contempt. He had very pale skin and his slightly wide lips gave him an effeminate appearance. His red hair, swept back, added a predatory menace.

The Commodore swung his booted right foot over the side of the chair and let it hang as he reclined in an obvious caricature of complete boredom.

"As Governor Mazier's personal secretary, my dear Dalian, you must have known that something wasn't right?" The Commodore's voice was smooth and sickeningly fawning, and all the more fearful for it. "And where is he? Why is he not here before me?"

The secretary, a small man with a nervous demeanour, shook his head.

"He is dead, Commodore Sarn," he stammered. "As I said."

Ella came to a halt behind a line of other prisoners. From her position she had a good view of the proceedings.

Sarn examined his nails.