VIREEN PRIME, CITY-012
In the shadowy streets of the 12th City of Vireen Prime, a squad moved with purpose. Concealed beneath hoods and gas masks, they carried heavy armaments from the ex-clone era—mostly of Separatist origin. Blaster rifles, portable rocket launchers, auto-turrets, pistols—each weapon marked the age of decay and defiance.
City-012 was the last remaining remnant of pre-disaster Vireen Prime. The only settlement still standing and inhabited. Just over 433,000 individuals lived within its limits, yet it remained the most populous community on the planet. The second-largest was over 300,000 inhabitants smaller.
It was a desperate sight. Among the trio walked the leader of the Vireen Resistance, known as the Shadows of Vireen. His name was Veris Gallan, a human male standing at an imposing 6'6"—though most of that height came from his cybernetic legs. His arms matched the artificial, mechanical design.
"There are rumors of a new arrival," a female voice said from beneath her hood. Her skin, partially visible in the dim light, was a vibrant crimson—marking her as a Zeltron.
"What does it matter, Dresha? Their ships can't help them down here," said the largest of the group, his voice muffled by a heavy war-mask. A Kalee—broad-shouldered and covered in tribal armor.
"Who is the new arrival?" Veris asked, turning his head toward the red-skinned woman, now identified as Dresha.
"I'm not certain," she replied. "But intercepted transmissions and field reports suggest it might be Commodore Aaron Rysell of the 32nd Squadron." Veris narrowed his eyes.
"The Crimson Squadron? What are they doing here?" a fourth member asked, her pitch unmistakably feminine. Her facial structure, though, gave away her species—a Nautolan.
"They specialize in hunting 'insurgencies'—a neat euphemism for rebels," Dresha explained, her confusion evident as well.
"Didn't he go on a rampage for the Moffs? Chasing down whoever they pointed at?" the Nautolan asked.
"You're right, Nyk," Dresha said. "This is most likely one of the Moff's orders."
"Ha! He's just a kid. Why would he make any difference?" Jorux, the towering Kalee, exclaimed, surprised at the concerned looks on his allies' faces.
"You're wrong, Jorux," Veris said, his voice low and deliberate. "Commodore Rysell is an unusually capable and dangerous man. We'd best proceed with caution." The two women nodded in agreement, while the Kalee remained silent.
"I agree, Veris—better safe than sorry. But the camps are beginning to struggle. We desperately need basic supplies, and we can't get them by raiding Imperial convoys alone," Dresha added. Veris nodded.
"Perhaps it's time we reach out to the Rebellion."
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Lieutenant Colonel Lux stood aboard the Imperial-II Class Star Destroyer, the Leviathan. Clad in newly issued armor identical to that of the Wraith Troopers, his outfit featured a few notable differences.
Lux wore a dark-red pauldron on his right shoulder, and his black kama had crimson outlines. But the most striking feature was the electrostaff gripped in his right hand. Crafted from phryk alloy, the staff emitted a pulsating violet current—capable of incapacitating most humanoids in a single touch.
Lux had received direct training from Ross himself—the same man who trained the first generation of Purge Troopers. According to Ross, Lux met the standard expected of any elite trooper from that feared division.
Yet Lux was not the center of attention.
"You want them exterminated? Down to the last soul?" Aaron asked cautiously, eyes narrowed as he regarded the bloated and unpleasant Moff seated before him.
"Do your ears malfunction, Commodore? You will wipe every Vireenian from the surface of Vireen Prime," the Moff sneered, spittle flying from his flabby lips.
"I shall not," Aaron replied flatly. The Moff's eyes darkened.
"Who do you think you are? I am a Moff of the Galactic Empire! Your paygrade is a dozen levels beneath mine! You'll do as I say, or you'll be court-martialed!" he shouted.
Aaron remained calm, voice even. "Moff Cassian Thrunn—are you suggesting that your orders override those of the Galactic Emperor or the Ruling Council?"
Thrunn's eyes widened slightly, not expecting the younger man to throw such a politically dangerous implication back at him.
"No! Where in your stunted brain did I say that?"
"My mission parameters are clear: ensure that the citizens and insurgents of Vireen Prime do not obstruct or disrupt Imperial industrial operations or facilities," Aaron said pointedly.
"Exactly. And that can only be achieved through extermination," the Moff said with a triumphant smile.
Aaron shook his head. "You lack imagination, Moff. Intelligence reports suggest the Rebel Alliance has planted agents on Vireen Prime. A mass extermination could lead to leaked footage, which would damage public trust in the Empire."
He smiled slightly. "Therefore, we pursue the peaceful alternative: relocation. I have alre—"
"Relocation? Are you deranged?" Thrunn snapped, cutting him off. "We gassed the planet! If we relocate them to the wilds, they'll simply regroup with the Rebellion!"
Aaron didn't flinch. "The broader strategic approach is not within your jurisdiction. My mandate is clear, and my plan clearer. You may either comply or be removed from the chain of command. You will not interfere in an Imperial Intelligence operation. Am I understood?"
As he spoke, a Wraith Trooper appeared behind the Moff and forcibly seated him.
"I.I.? This assignment is funded by my sector. Intelligence has no authority here!" Thrunn protested.
"The situation is unstable, and thus Imperial Intelligence's Counter-Insurgency Department has been authorized by the Ruling Council to take direct control. You no longer possess executive command on this planet," Aaron said as he stood up and turned away.
"I initially intended to follow your directives to the letter," he added with a calm, mocking tone. "But the I.I. has intervened. My hands, regrettably, are tied."
The door slammed behind him as Aaron, Lux, and the Wraith Squad exited.
After a long silence, Lux spoke. "Why did you say that last part? The Moff clearly has no jurisdiction."
Aaron sighed. "Moff Thrunn is powerful. I'd rather redirect his inevitable rage at the Imperial Intelligence—they have the political clout to fight back. I don't."
Lux nodded slowly, understanding dawning.
They might have the support of multiple Moffs and the full resources of Imperial Intelligence—but that loyalty was purchased, not earned. Aaron was certain any Moff could buy away his influence—except against the I.I.
Still, he dared not place his faith in Ysanne Isard.
________________
Hannah walked through the corridors of the ISD Leviathan, flanked by a squad of Wraith Troopers. An imposing presence. She was more than satisfied with the personnel under her lover's command.
But she wasn't alone. To her right walked Varn Issik. He wore the standard gray uniform of Imperial Intelligence, with two black pips indicating his status as a Special Field Agent.
His appearance was striking. Pale as moonlight, with sharp blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. His torso was armored in black plastoid, while the rest of his uniform remained unarmored. Floating behind him was a T-9 Torture Droid, customized to his personal preferences.
As they reached their destination, Hannah's mind shifted. She turned to the right, eyes locking on the detention cell before her. The door slid open, and she entered with Varn and two Wraiths.
A man lay strapped to a cot inside. His identity was unmistakable.
Governor Ian Tero.
He had been found guilty of treason—selling sensitive intel and starships to the Black Vow insurgency. Thanks to Aaron, he had been captured. Their goal now was to extract information—and fortunately, the man lacked the fortitude to endure prolonged torture.
Varn had barely needed his tools. At this point, his mere presence made the former governor soil himself in fear.
"Ex-Governor Ian Tero," Hannah said, smiling faintly at the man's terror. "I believe you have something for me?"
"Y-yes!" Tero stammered. "There's a secret HoloFeed... the rebels use it to monitor public outcry and civilian requests. They rarely respond, but it helps them gain trust. Sometimes... sometimes they do act on it."
"Excellent," Hannah replied. "Now, how do we find and access this feed?"
She lifted her datapad. The AI transcription module activated, recording his every word.
They had known about the HoloFeed for years. They had attempted to infiltrate it multiple times—always failing. But perhaps, Hannah thought, Luthan—once a key figure in the Alliance—possessed the proper codes. Codes that could finally allow them to surveil the network undetected, or better yet, hijack control.
If today's interrogation led to that outcome, then Imperial Intelligence would prove its capability in a long-term insurgency war. Their victories wouldn't be seen as mere flukes—they would be seen as systemic, strategic, and repeatable.
And maybe, just maybe, they could lure the rebels into a trap. Deliver a devastating ambush. Perhaps even sever the head of the snake.
As Hannah's thoughts raced, another idea took root—something had to change in the Empire. Without reform, rebel cells would keep growing. But that was a conversation for another day, far above her pay grade.
Today, she focused on the war.
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