Slain knew that the Nikto were incapable of fighting back, were no longer a threat to the Empire, to his unit or to himself, but he had his orders. Standing around the group of horned aliens, he stood, rifle at the ready, looking across as the enemy combatants laid down their arms and held their arms open, hoping to stave off the fate that their fellows had met. This was his first posting, he and his squad were all newly inducted into the war-machine of The Sith Empire, and the Kintan invasion was the perfect trial. Looking through his visor, he felt no hatred, no anger, just a cold dispassion, awaiting to whether the designation of the Nikto was to be confirmed as non-combatants or to remain as enemy fighters. One meant they may have a chance to be spared, the other confirmed that they were to be put to death.
“Sir, they have laid down their arms and are requesting amnesty.”
Just behind him, their commander was on the comm, confirming with command as to their orders, leaving Slain and the others to keep an eye over the Nikto prisoners. They had come across the Nikto unexpectedly, their primary targets the Jedi that currently held the planet within their grasp but within moments the troopers had dropped the majority of the foe with precise blaster fire and they had surrender within moments. All Jedi were to be considered hostile, but regarding the Nikto their current designation was still undetermined.
“You have your orders commander, all encountered are to be considered hostile.”
“Trooper, Do you have your transfer papers?”
Standing at attention, Slain realised he had drifted off and stared back down at the officer, another Chiss wearing the dark uniform of the Sith Empire, her red eyes contrasting brightly with the muted colour of the fabric. Nodding silently, he placed the transfer request over, the usual boilerplate information seeming to fade away in comparison to the bold signature at the bottom, that of Lord Colone Wirm’nael’armiir. The fact that his transfer had been requested from such a high rank all but confirmed Slain’s suspicion that he was to be made an example of for what had happened to his unit upon Kintan, but he would not be found to shy away from the repercussions. To have fled or slunk away from any punishment would have only proved that his actions had been motivated by avarice, greed or some other personal issue.
It was not. He did not have personal feelings regarding the others, he barely had any feelings regarding anything, his training had seen to that. When he was tired, he slept, when he was hungry, he ate and when he was ordered to complete a task, it was completed to the letter, often in as efficient and violent method as possible.
“Please take a seat, it will be a few minutes.”
“Listen boys, command has deemed them to be considered hostile.”
His commander was using their private comm network, no noise coming from outside his helmet, lest the Nikto hear and do something rash. By the tone he was using, it was clear to Slain that he didn’t agree with the assessment. The older trooper strode over to the rest of the squad, his own rifle held loosely, aimed away from any of the scared aliens, still on their knees beneath the vigil of Slain and the others. Where the others were fidgeting, shuffling and glancing around, unsure of what to do next, Slain remained perfectly still, his finger still gripping his trigger a fraction of an inch away from firing. His commander placed a gloved hand onto the weapon, forcing it down from the aliens as he turned to the others, the other troopers mirroring the movement, their own weapons held at ease.
“But, I came down here to kill Jedi, not defenceless aliens. I say that we let them go on with their business, and just call it a day. No need to be putting bodies in the ground that don’t call for it. Understood?!”
“Agreed.”
‘Agreed.”
“Yes Sir.”
“Agreed Sir.”
“…….”
As the acknowledgement’s came through from the rest of the squad, Slain tightened his grip on his rifle, his featureless visor staring at the others, none of the betrayal that he felt readable upon its unchanging expression, wanting nothing more than to join his unit, his brothers in agreeing, but unable. The orders had been to treat the Nikto as hostile and The Sith Empire did not leave hostiles to roam free.
“I SAID, DO YOU UNDERSTAND TROOPER?!”
“Trooper?”
Looking back up, Slain found himself staring into the eyes of two troopers, both out of armour but their uniforms crisp and clean.
“I said, Do you understand where you are?”
Looking around, the Chiss behind the desk was staring curiously as well, her interest obviously piqued from the level of authority that had requested Slain’s transfer.
Staring at the pair, Slain slowly shook his head.
“No Sir.”
The pair looked to each other, looks of mutual frustration across their faces, one actually sighing before turning back to the seated trooper.
“You are aboard the Epitaph, flagship of General
Irveric Tavlar
. Do you understand what that means, trooper?”
“I understand.”
“Good.”
As his commander, the man who had led him through his training and into the fiery battle of Kintan and ensured his survival, turned away, content with the troopers answer, Slain raised his rifle, his shoulders shifting smoothly for the butte to nestle within his arms. It was not different than every shot he had fired previously, no other feeling was attached to it. When I think back on that moment, I feel like it should have felt different. Shame, guilt even some perverse sense of satisfaction? All I felt was the recoil, no different than any shot before or after.
With practiced ease, it was simplicity itself for Slain to fire a round into each of his squad, his officer in the back between the shoulder blades, the others in the temple, through the ribs under their arm, one even took a shot in the shoulder, responding faster than the others to the friendly fire, trying to roll into cover before another shot straight into his visor brought an end to the movement. Looking quickly to confirm the kills of each, Slain then spun around, bringing his weapon up to bear upon the Nikto, unmoving in their shock.
“Confirmed, hostile designation.”
Staring at his own reflection, Slain wondered if he should have been feeling something even now. He had followed the two officers down a series of hallways, security passes and docks, until they had arrived at the room. The walls were a featureless grey, one wall entirely encompassed with a mirror, more security officers no doubt watching him from the other side. I will not resist, I will comply. The instant they disobeyed orders was the instant they became hostile. The Sith Empire does not leave hostiles to roam free. He kept repeating the mantra internally, not even flinching when the pair of hostiles placed the cuffs upon his hands, nor when they left the room, the door shutting silently. Staring into his own reflection, all Slain could do was wait.
“Sir, they have laid down their arms and are requesting amnesty.”
Just behind him, their commander was on the comm, confirming with command as to their orders, leaving Slain and the others to keep an eye over the Nikto prisoners. They had come across the Nikto unexpectedly, their primary targets the Jedi that currently held the planet within their grasp but within moments the troopers had dropped the majority of the foe with precise blaster fire and they had surrender within moments. All Jedi were to be considered hostile, but regarding the Nikto their current designation was still undetermined.
“You have your orders commander, all encountered are to be considered hostile.”
++++
“Trooper, Do you have your transfer papers?”
Standing at attention, Slain realised he had drifted off and stared back down at the officer, another Chiss wearing the dark uniform of the Sith Empire, her red eyes contrasting brightly with the muted colour of the fabric. Nodding silently, he placed the transfer request over, the usual boilerplate information seeming to fade away in comparison to the bold signature at the bottom, that of Lord Colone Wirm’nael’armiir. The fact that his transfer had been requested from such a high rank all but confirmed Slain’s suspicion that he was to be made an example of for what had happened to his unit upon Kintan, but he would not be found to shy away from the repercussions. To have fled or slunk away from any punishment would have only proved that his actions had been motivated by avarice, greed or some other personal issue.
It was not. He did not have personal feelings regarding the others, he barely had any feelings regarding anything, his training had seen to that. When he was tired, he slept, when he was hungry, he ate and when he was ordered to complete a task, it was completed to the letter, often in as efficient and violent method as possible.
“Please take a seat, it will be a few minutes.”
++++
“Listen boys, command has deemed them to be considered hostile.”
His commander was using their private comm network, no noise coming from outside his helmet, lest the Nikto hear and do something rash. By the tone he was using, it was clear to Slain that he didn’t agree with the assessment. The older trooper strode over to the rest of the squad, his own rifle held loosely, aimed away from any of the scared aliens, still on their knees beneath the vigil of Slain and the others. Where the others were fidgeting, shuffling and glancing around, unsure of what to do next, Slain remained perfectly still, his finger still gripping his trigger a fraction of an inch away from firing. His commander placed a gloved hand onto the weapon, forcing it down from the aliens as he turned to the others, the other troopers mirroring the movement, their own weapons held at ease.
“But, I came down here to kill Jedi, not defenceless aliens. I say that we let them go on with their business, and just call it a day. No need to be putting bodies in the ground that don’t call for it. Understood?!”
“Agreed.”
‘Agreed.”
“Yes Sir.”
“Agreed Sir.”
“…….”
As the acknowledgement’s came through from the rest of the squad, Slain tightened his grip on his rifle, his featureless visor staring at the others, none of the betrayal that he felt readable upon its unchanging expression, wanting nothing more than to join his unit, his brothers in agreeing, but unable. The orders had been to treat the Nikto as hostile and The Sith Empire did not leave hostiles to roam free.
“I SAID, DO YOU UNDERSTAND TROOPER?!”
++++
“Trooper?”
Looking back up, Slain found himself staring into the eyes of two troopers, both out of armour but their uniforms crisp and clean.
“I said, Do you understand where you are?”
Looking around, the Chiss behind the desk was staring curiously as well, her interest obviously piqued from the level of authority that had requested Slain’s transfer.
Staring at the pair, Slain slowly shook his head.
“No Sir.”
The pair looked to each other, looks of mutual frustration across their faces, one actually sighing before turning back to the seated trooper.
“You are aboard the Epitaph, flagship of General
Irveric Tavlar
. Do you understand what that means, trooper?”++++
“I understand.”
“Good.”
As his commander, the man who had led him through his training and into the fiery battle of Kintan and ensured his survival, turned away, content with the troopers answer, Slain raised his rifle, his shoulders shifting smoothly for the butte to nestle within his arms. It was not different than every shot he had fired previously, no other feeling was attached to it. When I think back on that moment, I feel like it should have felt different. Shame, guilt even some perverse sense of satisfaction? All I felt was the recoil, no different than any shot before or after.
With practiced ease, it was simplicity itself for Slain to fire a round into each of his squad, his officer in the back between the shoulder blades, the others in the temple, through the ribs under their arm, one even took a shot in the shoulder, responding faster than the others to the friendly fire, trying to roll into cover before another shot straight into his visor brought an end to the movement. Looking quickly to confirm the kills of each, Slain then spun around, bringing his weapon up to bear upon the Nikto, unmoving in their shock.
“Confirmed, hostile designation.”
++++
Staring at his own reflection, Slain wondered if he should have been feeling something even now. He had followed the two officers down a series of hallways, security passes and docks, until they had arrived at the room. The walls were a featureless grey, one wall entirely encompassed with a mirror, more security officers no doubt watching him from the other side. I will not resist, I will comply. The instant they disobeyed orders was the instant they became hostile. The Sith Empire does not leave hostiles to roam free. He kept repeating the mantra internally, not even flinching when the pair of hostiles placed the cuffs upon his hands, nor when they left the room, the door shutting silently. Staring into his own reflection, all Slain could do was wait.
