Prologue

Boredom

 

        Life aboard an Imperial Warship is one of duty, one of honor, one of loyalty... and one of repetition. Everything is so clean, organized, shiny... and lifeless. You are expected to be shipshape, upright, outstanding moral compasses and model citizens of the Empire... while also selling your soul. 

        Tis the double-edged sword of working for a totalitarian government: they keep things in line, but they suck out all the color, all the joy, and all the life. But to many living under Imperial rule, they have no choice. With how stringent money is and how tightly the Empire controls everything to a T, many view joining the Imperial Navy as the only option they have. It's the only way that they can get a steady income, and for most, a job. All they have to do is sell their soul to the devil and walk in perfect goosesteps while staying as still as a droid. It's... a stable existence to some, the only existence for many, and a terrible existence to others.

        Oh, many thought of leaving the Empire behind to forge their own path, but with them in control of basically everything it's like trying to run from a ghost; it's impossible. How does one even live in this tight, constricting world that sucks out all joy and emotion? 

        It's a hard question within every squad, on every city block, and aboard their mighty warships, such as todays example, the Serpent's Tail. 

 

        Out in the fringes of space floated a lone ship, drifting aimlessly among the dark, cold confines of the endless vacuum. While deceptively small for its size, the Dreadnaught-Class Heavy Cruiser is the perfect example of not judging a book by its cover. While it comes in at only 600 meters long, it has enough firepower to take on a Mon Calamari Capital Ship and win. Like the Quasar Carrier, the Dreadnaught also has a civilian model, but only the Imperial model has a ventral hanger system build right in, but due to its small size, it can only hold Tie Interceptors or Bombers because of their folded wings, and even then only hold seven: in the Serpent's case, 4 Interceptors, 2 Bombers, and a Tie Boarding Craft.

        At the moment, the Serpent's Tail was stuck out on patrol duty... patrol duty out in the middle of nowhere... with absolutely no signs of Rebel activity. They're not even near any Rebel hotspots- all the major stuff is happening up in the Galactic North at Yavin, but no... they're stuck out here, in the middle of nowhere, where they have been for the last 2 months.

        

        Every day, it is the same.

        Wake up at the designated time, no matter how you feel. Do your restroom duties and suit up before reporting to actual duty. Perform actual duty. Break only for meal time and designated restroom time. Work day ends, go to bed, then do it over and over again. Lather, rinse, and repeat until you snap or you die. The monotony never ends.

        So much of that was the case for Ikle, an officer in the Imperial Navy who opened her eyes at the sound of her alarm. The female albino Shistavanen- humanoid wolves- sat up and stretched, yawning loudly as she did. Thanks to the Empire's extreme xenophobia, seeing an Alien working for them is rather strange; downright mortifying to many. Why would an Alien work for a government that actively promotes putting them down? Well, Shistavanen's aren't very big on other alien races either... or albinos. For most of her life, Ikle was powerless; now that she's a officer in the navy, she is now the one with power. Regardless, the Empire had made exceptions before, such as with Grand Admiral Thrawn, who was a Chiss from the Unknown Regions. 

        Getting out of her bed, she went to the restroom to freshen up, not that it matters- it's just going to be the same thing again, as usual. She understands why patrols are needed, but... all the way out here, there's just no reasoning behind it, none that she can see.

        Out of her skivvies and freshly showered, Ikle put on her officers uniform, grabbed her mobile datapad, and went to work. She walked out into the clean, pristine hallways of the Imperial cruiser. If there is one nice thing to say about Imperial ships, they're always kept spotless. Benefit to having Droid janitors over flesh ones: you don't have to worry about paying them.

        Speaking of said Droids, Ikle rounded a corner and almost ran into several on the custodial staff; a pair of R5 units and a T3 unitl The R5's had mops and buckets while the T3 was hauling a vacuum. "Pardon me." She said as she side-stepped past them. The Droids watched her leave for a brief moment before getting on with their day.

        Before long, Ikle reached the main bridge of the ship. Like most different models, the layout of the bridge will vary depending on which one you buy. The Imperial style of the Dreadnaught-class is... well, just like any other Imperial bridge: large windows, walls lined with consoles, two dips in the floor so the captain can seem imposing to the crew, just like an ISD or a Raider or a Victory or... you get the picture. 

        Standing between the two dips was the captain of this vessel: a Human male in his mid-30's whose face hadn't seen a razor in over a month, resulting in some stubble for facial hair. Ikle approached him from behind, "Captain Brisbane." She stood at attention and saluted. "Corporal Ikle, reporting for duty sir."

        He turned and saluted. "At ease, Corporal." She lowered her hand and brought her pad up to bear. "70 days, out in Deep Space, doing absolutely nothing." He said to begin with. "... You know, honestly, i'm amazed cabin fever has not set in yet."

        "The Imperial Academy do train their soldiers well, sir."

        "True, but they're still human, and we tend to go... to use lack of decorum, nuts."

        Oh, she knows. She most certainly knows. "OH... i know, sir. I've dealt with my fair share of unhinged humans before."

        "So i read. What do your kind do to stave off boredom during long flights?"

        "Nothing any human would want to do, that's for da-- i mean, for sure, sir."

        He caught that little slipup, but he wasn't going to comment or report it. After the first month, he started to go lax on the regulations and the rules; if it helps prevent the crew from going insane, he'll likely allow it, let it slip, or pretend it didn't happen. It's helped so far, but only so many tiny things can do so much. "Any new reports?"

        "Nothing that's come across my feed, sir... but given your lax approach to command these last few weeks, i doubt anyone is going to report a small infraction."        

        "Can you blame me for being lax? If i don't find ways to keep the crew from losing their minds from the tiresome monotony, they're liable to start a riot or a mutiny just to have something entertaining happen." She doubts it'll go that far... but weirder things have happened, like a single pilot destroying a moon-sized battlestation. "... you know what we need?" He asked. "A day off."

        That made her raise an eyebrow. "A day off?"

        "Yes. A day to just relax, unwind, and do whatever you want."

        It would help stave off the overwhelming boredom, but it would completely fly in the face of Imperial protocol. "I... sir, while i understand where you are coming from, Imperial protocol--" 

        "Isn't going to help the crew much. Ikle, we're on patrol in the middle of nowhere. Nothing has happened in months while all the major stuff happened far away from us. I'm bored, you're bored, everyone is bored. Either we do something to fix that, even if it's only for a day, or risk mutiny from those who can't take it anymore."

        True on all fronts, but.... if anyone were to come check on them while on that 'day off', it could lead to an inquiry. She was to make that argument, but seeing the tired faces of the crew down in the pits, struggling to stay awake even, convinced her. "... alright. You made your point- a day off to relax and recharge isn't the worst idea i've had. But if a captain or a Moff or Lord Vader himself comes around and see's what we're doing, i'm telling them it was all your idea."

        "Fair enough." He agreed. "Since you're about to go out on your rounds, maybe ask to see what the crew would want for their day off."

        "Sounds more like you're planning a party."

        "If it helps, i'll plan a a vacation to Glee Anselem." Bit lofty, especially since they're on the other side of the galaxy from them. "But as we don't haven't gotten all our points to qualify for a vacation, a day off here on the ship will have to do."

        "Then i guess i'll ask around while on my rounds then." She gave a salute, he gave one back, then she turned on her heels then left. What Brisbane is proposing would land him in hot water on any other Imperial vessel, but rarely any have been in situations like theirs. Sometimes, the crew wonder if they are cursed with someone the Empire want to eliminate, but can't due to reasons so they put them on a ship and placed them in one of the most remote and boring corners of the universe. 

        But that's not possible. Nobody on the ship is that important.

 

 

        Elsewhere, looking out of the bridge of his Star Destroyer, a feared Imperial Moff gazed out at the barren moon below them. Facilities were swiftly being constructed. This place was a excellent location to test his prototypes. Now... he just needs a patsy-- i mean, a commander. Beside him was his most trusted advisor and childhood friend, who was cleaning fresh blood off a Tusken Raider's gaffie stick.

        From behind, an officer approached with a datapad in hand. He swiftly saluted, then spoke, "Moff Seerdon, construction on the testing facility is proceeding ahead of schedule. By our calculations, it should be done within four days time." He approached and offered the datapad to Seerdon, which he took. "We've also compiled the list you requested, sir."

        Looking at the pad, he responded with a silvery snakey voice, "Very well. You may leave." The officer nodded, then left.

        Looking up from his work, the advisor asked, "What list?"

        "A list of individuals within the Empire that the Emperor wants to eliminate, but cannot for political reasons, but all that changed when he dissolved the Senate. So, i'm going to be doing him a favor in an attempt to gain his." Seerdon said as he sifted through the list.

        "But i thought we were looking for a commander for the base."

        "We are, dear Stern. But if the Rebels attack- and let's face it, they will- we want someone the Empire will not miss... someone with absolutely no strategic value and whose lose will not be mourned." After a couple minutes, he found his patsy. "And i think i found him: Captain Ozzik Brisbane. Born on Byss, joined the Academy at age 17, graduated at a respectable rank- 13 out of 40 in his class. Sadly, the man has no real credits to his name. A regular captain with no ranks or honors- if this were a holofilm, he'd be a background character. He is currently assigned command of the Dreadnaught-Class Heavy Cruiser known as Serpent's Tail, but failure to come to the aid of a Arquiten's under assault in time granted him and his crew a patrol route out in the middle of deep space, far from any planets or systems of true consequence. Also received demerits for being loose with his command structure, allowing borderline chaos to erupt aboard his ships." He turned to Stern. "He should work, no?"

        He was in agreement, but he was also pissed for another reason. "I say we kill him right now just for having the same name as me."

        "Patience, Ozzik, patience."

        Stern calmed down, then looked down towards the moon. "But, sir; you've been working on this project for some time. Would you really be willing to throw it all away if and when the Rebels come here?"

        "That is why i am also in search for another commander, one that will be the true leader of the base. Brisbane will be the face for the Rebels to focus on while commander number 2 slinks away with our prototypes for us to experiment on another day."

        "A sound strategy, but do you think it would work if the Rebels attacked?"

        "Only one way to find out." He sat the datapad down on the console in front of him. "Ready up a transport. I'm gonna go see this Brisbane. Given his middle-of-nowhere location, i should return by the time our base is finished." He then started walking away.

        "Of course, Moff Seerdon." Stern responded, just before the doors closed upon Seerdon's exit.

 

 

 

 

Star Wars:
Jaded Dreadnaughts