Star Wars: Dar'Aliit

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Children's War

5 BBY Training Quarters of the Malevolent

Over ten years of service and what is the reward? Trainees. Soft, wet behind the ears, fleshy little rats without an ounce of discipline. They're all civilians now. Clones, we're an obsolete invention.

I know it's the Moff's way of rewarding me with the closest thing to a pension. I'd much rather be back out there on the front lines, but no. It's 0500 and I'm up on my feet, dressed in an officer's uniform stalking my way toward the training room, again. Today, maybe today they'll get it.

The class before them got it eventually. As did the one before them. You come here to do one job. Fight for the Empire. Protect the peace. Show no mercy.

I yawn. I need more caf in the morning. I never drank it before but boy do I want it now. I've heard it's more addicting than alcohol, and alcohol is the only thing that keeps my sorrows at bay usually. Maybe I ought to switch.

There's not a sound in the open air room as I approach. I frown. Did they all sleep in? If so I'm going to drag every one of their shebs out onto that floor and make them run laps till their legs fall off.

I toggle the door. It slides open and there's not a light on inside. "Kriffing recruits." I hit the lights.

Right smack dab in front of me stands a stiff sandy colored B1. I start back, my hand on my blaster before a voice rings out, half laughing in the worst monotone I've ever heard, and echoes from the droid's chest.

"Roger. Roger."

I gather my senses and my composure quickly enough to snap up my blaster and shoot the blasted thing right in the chest.

The whole thing crashes over and falls to pieces. It's not even fully there. It's a B1 dummy with protocol droid legs. Among their bits, I find a busted up commlink. I pick it up. It spits sparks and static.

"Cadets!" I yell into it.

There's a scramble from somewhere within the room and from the storage closets rookies come stumbling out, laughing their heads off.

"You thought it was real, sir!"

"We got you!" Cadets grab each other howling at their own prank.

Someone waves a hand in front of another cadet's face. "This is the droid you're looking for. Hah!"

One of them grabs their gut, doubling over laughing.

I click the setting on my blaster discreetly to stun and I level it at the nearest person I see. "This isn't an arena for fun."

Every sound in the room turns to silence. Pure, fearful, silence.

"Now that I have your undivided attention." I put my foot on the head of the droid. I crush it beneath my boot. "Who set this up?"

Not a word. They look among each other. I'd be disappointed if they ratted each other out so quickly. However, this isn't the time to be covering it up.

"Spit it out!"

Several fingers point to the Iridonian kid in the middle of the room. He huffs out his chest and crosses both arms over it. "Pretty good, huh?"

"If you wanted to get shot, then yes. As far as construction, it's completely shoddy work."

His pride fades out of his face. I holster my blaster. "Everyone of you, we're skipping our planned training. I want you all to run the Crucible."

"But that's for the–"

"I don't care." I put both hands on my hips. "Every. Single. One. Of. You. Run it till you get a perfect score. If you don't, you run it tomorrow."