The dim light of the hidden chamber cast long, dancing shadows across the faces gathered around the circular table. It was a scene of clandestine deliberation, the air thick with tension and the scent of stale air and desperation. This was not the polished war room of an Imperial Star Destroyer, nor the chaotic briefing of a Rebel Alliance outpost. This was something different, something far more… radical. These individuals were the leaders of a splinter group, a faction that operated on the fringes of the rebellion, their methods as ruthless as their goals were fervent. They sought the downfall of the Empire with a fervor that bordered on fanaticism, and they were not afraid to spill innocent blood if they believed it would serve their ultimate cause.
"Liphtu II was… messier than we anticipated," a woman with sharp, intelligent eyes and short, cropped hair stated, her voice low and precise. "The Imperials responded with excessive force, but the message was sent. The Outer Rim knows now what happens to those who defy the Emperor."
"Excessive?" A hulking man with scars crisscrossing his face slammed a fist on the table, the metallic surface ringing with the impact. "We wanted chaos. We wanted fear. We wanted the galaxy to see the Empire's true face. What happened in Sector 3 was a necessary demonstration."
"But the civilian casualties…" another voice, hesitant and younger, ventured. "Was it truly necessary to involve them?"
"Collateral damage," the scarred man growled, waving a dismissive hand. "In war, there are sacrifices. And in this war, we cannot afford to be sentimental. The Empire doesn't hesitate to crush the innocent. We had to do it in order to show the galaxy what the Empire is capable of."
A debate erupted, voices rising and falling in a heated exchange of strategy and morality. These were not idealistic rebels fighting for noble principles alone; they were hardened individuals, scarred by loss and driven by a consuming rage. They believed in their cause, but they also believed in using whatever means necessary to achieve victory, even if it meant resorting to tactics that would make even the most hardened Rebel Alliance leaders uneasy.
Amidst the rising clamor, a figure at the edge of the table, shrouded in shadows, spoke with a calm, measured tone that cut through the noise. "The operation served its purpose. The Empire's brutality is slowly being exposed. The Outer Rim is stirring. The whispers are spreading."
"But what about Gnarr Varr's protégé?" another officer asked, leaning forward with concern etched on his face. "Is she still in position? Has she been compromised?"
The shadowed figure chuckled softly, a low, unsettling sound. "Don't concern yourself with her. She knows exactly what she's doing. More than any of us, perhaps. She is… resourceful."
—
The daily routine of the starship buzzed with a tense energy. The aftermath of Liphtu II hung heavy in the air, a silent reminder of the brutality that had taken place. But life on a warship moved on, and for Blade Squad, that meant drills, maintenance checks, and the endless cycle of orders and assignments.
Captain Zeke stood before his assembled squad, his voice carrying with its usual authority. JM-909 stood among his comrades, the memories of Liphtu II still vivid in his mind.
"Alright, listen up," Zeke began, his gaze sweeping over each member of the squad. "We have a new addition to our ranks. A transfer from another sector, with an impressive record, I might add."
He paused, and a figure stepped forward, into the light. She was a woman of average height with a determined set to her jaw and eyes that seemed to hold a depth of experience beyond her years. Her uniform was crisp and impeccable, and there was an air of quiet confidence about her.
"This is Dezma Ray," Zeke continued. "Call her Dez. She comes highly recommended." He then proceeded to list her service record: "Numerous successful combat engagements against insurgent forces on Lothal, Kessel and a half dozen other worlds. Master tactician during the siege on Bracca, and recipient of the Emperor's commendation for outstanding service." His words were clipped and efficient, but there was a clear note of respect in his voice. "She requested to be transferred to a more active combat unit and has been accepted into Blade Squad."
Dez stepped forward slightly, offering a brief, professional nod to the squad. "It's a pleasure to meet all of you," she said, her voice clear and steady. "I look forward to serving alongside you."
Nine observed the new arrival with a wary eye. There was something about her presence, something in her demeanor, that made him uneasy. A focused energy that suggested a hidden depth. He knew what it was like to carry the weight of past battles, the burden of decisions made under fire. He could see that Dez carried a similar weight, perhaps even more so.
"Another one to worry about," Nine thought to himself, a wry, internal observation.
But as he looked at Dez, standing there with her quiet confidence and her unwavering gaze, he just hoped that she was the kind of person that would strengthen the squad, not tear it apart.
The training that followed was intense and rigorous. Dez proved to be a formidable combatant, her movements precise and efficient, her reflexes lightning fast. She displayed a deep understanding of tactics and strategy, and she was not afraid to challenge established procedures or offer alternative solutions. She quickly earned the respect of her squadmates, even Wolff, who was notoriously difficult to impress.
As the day came to an end, and the squad retired to their quarters, Nine found himself drawn into a brief conversation with Dez.
"You handled yourself well in the simulations today," he said, his voice neutral. "You seem… experienced."
Dez turned to him, her eyes meeting his. "Experience is earned," she replied, her tone even. "And it's a constant teacher."
Nine nodded slowly, considering her words. There was a quiet intensity in her gaze, a depth that spoke of battles fought and lessons learned. He sensed that she had seen things, things that had changed her, perhaps even hardened her. But he also sensed that there was more to her than just the soldier façade. There was a flicker of something else, something that hinted at a deeper complexity.
"What brings you to Blade Squad?" Nine asked, curious. "There are plenty of other units in the fleet."
Dez paused for a moment, as if considering her answer. "I wanted a challenge," she said finally. "I wanted to be where the action is. And I heard that Blade Squad… gets things done."