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“Awfully clumsy, Piett. Not a good look for the Imperial Navy.”
They laughed, clapping each other on the back as they walked away.
Mutters of ‘Rimmer trash’ and ‘good thing we wear gloves’ drifted to his ears as he rolled carefully to his hands and knees and then used the bulkhead to haul himself to his feet.
Karking hells.
On top of everything else, just what he needed. A cracked rib. The bruises he could deal with, but that…
A well placed shove in his back had sent him down seven hard durasteel steps with less than ideal results.
He took several shallow breaths to find out how deeply he could do so without searing pain. Then he brushed dust from his uniform and straightened his cap.
Ozzel had ordered him down to the planet’s surface in order to facilitate the loading and retreat of the army and its equipment. He was rather certain that there ought to be smoother communication and collaboration between the army and the navy for something like this, but as he was only two months into his assignment on Executor, straight from being recruited out of the Axxilan fleet, he didn’t know all the history.
And choosing him of all people to organize a rather gargantuan task, was just another way for the Admiral to see if he could crush Piett.
He tilted his chin.
Not likely. The galaxy had been an unforgiving and challenging place before this assignment—Ozzel wasn’t special.
But as he disembarked from the shuttle on the war torn surface of the planet, he wondered if this might just be the moment.
If this was his end.
No one had informed him that he would be reporting directly to Lord Vader. He had assumed the ‘ground commander’ he would be speaking with might possibly be Colonel Travis. Maybe General Veers himself.
Not for all the credits in the galaxy would he have realized Ozzel was sending him directly to Vader.
Very well. If he was to die at the Sith Lord’s hand (quite literally) then he wished to at least do his best even as he failed.
“My Lord,” he said, saluting sharply. “Captain Piett. I was sent to smooth over the difficulty in transporting the ground equipment back to our fleet.”
There was a long and exceedingly uncomfortable pause as that black mask gazed at him assessingly.
Then—
“Ozzel sent you ? An Axxilan captain barely two months aboard?”
Wonderful.
He was displeased already. To be fair—Piett might have been as well if someone had sent him a green recruit for a planning mission against the Hutt Cartel.
Similar thing really.
“He did, my Lord.”
“I see.”
Piett wondered just what he saw.
“Very well then, Captain,” Lord Vader said with a languid wave of the black glove. “Smooth things over. Report to Colonel Travis.”
Piett bowed, accepting that this was a task far beyond him. Accepting that he would fail or pass out from exhaustion—which was the same thing in the end.
He only stumbled a little as he went to find Travis, but he did wish that his end could have been in the stars and not here on the dirt.
**************
Vader watched the short Captain walk away, doing his best to hide his injury and his exhaustion.
Interesting .
Vader himself had chosen him from the list of recruits he’d been given—-it was a way the Emperor liked to make various systems think he cared—cull some of their best officers for the Imperial Forces.
In reality of course, it kept independent fleets weak when their best and brightest were given such an ‘honor’.
And because Vader hated his Master passionately, as well as much of the Senior leadership in the Imperial Forces, he enjoyed picking the lesser known candidates or the Outer Rim nominees.
Piett had been one of those.
He’d picked him out of pure spite, but the sense of resolve and sheer stubbornness radiating off of the man intrigued him further.
He strode off to find his newest General who was trying to curb his exasperation with the whole situation.
“General Veers,” Vader intoned and the man smoothed his expression, becoming the Iron General before Vader’s eyes. “The Admiral has sent a liaison to work on the loading issue. A Captain Piett.”
Veers frowned a little.
“I…do not know the man, my Lord.”
“No. He is a recent acquisition. I have sent him to Colonel Travis for his instructions. I am…curious about his abilities. See to it that he receives no obstacles from your men.”
The General opened his mouth, but Vader held up a hand.
“I am well aware of the feelings between naval and army personnel on my ship, General. You and I both know this is a way for the Admiral to drive that wedge further in. Allow this captain to succeed or fail on his own merits with a level playing field.”
Veers shut his mouth and while Vader could sense he didn’t appreciate Ozzel sending someone so very new for such a massive task, he was too professional to say so to Lord Vader.
“Yes, my Lord.”
And with that, Vader spun to assess the rest of the battlefield.
***************
Colonel Travis looked him up and down in open disdain, but whatever he was thinking, he at least had the grace not to say it aloud.
“Very well,” he said cooly. “The Admiral has decreed that he does not wish the Herd to be stored on the Lady. Devastator took some bad hits which mean that she can’t open the blast doors to her three largest bays. We need to be off planet in six hours and none of the AT-ATs have been transported.”
Piett sucked at his teeth.
A very large problem indeed.
“How many Gozantis do we have available?” he asked.
“I know we have twenty-four in the fleet,” Travis replied. “Whether they are all available at the moment is currently a mystery thanks to our naval friends.”
Piett frowned a little. “Do they not have the numbers post battle? Damage reports?”
Travis gave him a hard look. “What’s your position again, Captain?”
Piett sighed internally, knowing the answer wouldn’t please the man.
“I’m the head of comms on the Lady,” he said, placing his hands behind his back and regretting it when the cracked rib protested.
“Kark me,” someone muttered behind Piett and Travis flashed him a sharp glare before turning that gaze back on the Captain.
“And…you’ve not worked with ground assault vehicles before then?” he asked, barely able to contain his displeasure.
“I have not,” Piett replied honestly. “But I will do my best if some of your people are willing to explain some of the aspects I should be aware of when considering their transport and storage.”
“We’re going to miss the window for sure,” a big sergeant groaned.
“Not if you all give your best efforts to assist Captain Piett,” said a new voice and Piett realized that he was looking at none other than General Maximilian Veers. How the man knew his name already was a mystery, but one he would ponder after he failed or succeeded with a six hour time frame.
“Lord Vader wishes our efforts to be as smooth as possible,” Veers continued, pinning each of his subordinates with a piercing grey gaze. “We will therefore keep our personal feelings about the navy to the side. I trust, Captain,” he said, turning to Piett, “that you can do the same?”
Piett inclined his head a little.
“As I am only two months in the Imperial fleet, sir, I have no assumptions in this regard.”
Veers studied him a moment.
“Are you quite well, Captain? Pardon me, but you look…”
Piett sighed.
“Yes, sir, I realize I don’t look my best. Some ah…late nights.”
That didn’t even begin to cover it, but Piett would be damned if he was going to whinge to the Senior General.
“Hmmm,” Veers responded, but he did not push the matter. “Well then. Let’s get to it.”
Travis led Piett to a workspace of sorts, set up on several large weapons crates. Firmus took a breath, tried to pretend he wasn’t desperate for tea and painkillers, and got to work.
While he was fully aware that comms was not seen as a lofty or pivotal position toward command, it was still a very critical one and like all things, he set out to do it to the best of his ability.
So he started there, contacting all the chief comms officers in the fleet. In short order he had a very helpful set of deck schematics and was actually able to speak to a few of the engineers on several of their Star Destroyers.
At one point, the big sergeant (Havell apparently) brought over another crate which Piett stared at bemusedly.
“To sit on, sir,” Havell informed him. “Pardon me, Captain, but you were swaying a bit there, like a ship on rough seas, sir.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Piett seated himself and continued to conduct this operation. He needed this to move fluidly, and no one would appreciate collisions with all the ships going up and down in an atmosphere already crowded with wreckage from their skirmish with the Rebels.
Two hours in and Travis was looking slightly less strained than he had been. Certainly the atmosphere around Piett was friendlier.
The trouble was, he was increasingly struggling with his focus and energy. He hadn’t really had any to begin with, and currently it was his own stubborn pride that was keeping him upright.
Havell came over to ask him something about the deck support beams on Avenger and Piett let him know that yes, it could indeed handle four AT-ATs without buckling the decks as an unmanned AT-AT without most of its payload was much lighter.
“You ah—-just had that knowledge lying around, Captain?” Havell asked him. He was a bluff and open sort and seemed very good natured even though one of his biceps was about as thick as Piett’s leg.
“No, Sergeant,” Piett returned, tapping a confirmation for loading and giving him a little smile. “I looked it up.”
“Wasn’t aware the navy even knew where to look for that information,” commented General Veers as he appeared once more.
Piett inclined his head, understanding just why all these dirtpounders felt this way under a Fleet Admiral like Ozzel.
“Yes, well. Some of us learned to read even,” he answered, and Veers actually laughed.
At some point, a hot cup of caf and a basic sandwich appeared at his elbow. Piett didn’t like caf, but he was not about to turn down the jolt it could provide. He wolfed the sandwich and thanked the general atmosphere as he tapped at three different monitors with five different commlinks open to his counterparts on the other ships.
“I have to ask,” the Colonel said, returning from another consultation with a Gozanti loading crew. “You seem awfully comfortable coordinating something like this.”
Piett’s mouth curled a little.
“I assure you I’m not comfortable , Colonel,” he replied, rubbing at the back of his neck. Kark, he felt like he was coming apart at the seams. “But in the Axxilan fleet we were rather limited witih respect to officers. It was necessary to be more familiar with how our ground troops worked and what kind of gear they needed.”
“Oh yes?” Travis asked, clearly interested. It was very refreshing to not have any condescension or sneering. In fact, the army personnel had been far more friendly and considerate to Piett than anyone from the navy since he’d joined Death Squadron.
“Yes, sir. And our fleet is a hodge podge. So each ship had different loading capabilities and weight class. This is actually…more consistent if still a huge task.”
“Well,” Travis replied, giving him a tired smile back. “You’re handling it remarkably well. I’d work with you anytime, Captain.”
“I’d enjoy that,” Piett said, warmth filling him at this. He decided to push a little. “Sir…could I request…”
He paused, unwilling to reveal weakness, especially after the Colonel had been so generous.
“Yes, Piett?”
“Could I request a stim shot?” he asked, taking the plunge. “I apologize, but if we are to finish this, I don’t think I’ll make it otherwise.”
Travis raised an eyebrow and looked at him appraisingly. Piett was doing his best to be casual, but he had a feeling that by now he looked little better than a corpse.
“I’ll do you one, better,” Travis replied, tapping at his comms. “I’m going to have Braxton take a look at you. I know how people hold themselves when they’ve cracked a rib, Piett.”
A flood of dread surged through him.
A whole host of problems could occur if a medic checked him over.
“I’m fine otherwise,” he said quickly. “Just tired, Colonel…”
“You are doing us a favor, Captain,” Travis said firmly. “I think the army can return it.”
************
Veers found Travis as the last of the Gozantis lifted off with the final AT-ATs which had received the worst damage. They had forty-five minutes to spare from their deadline and he wished to congratulate Piett.
But when he reached the area, there was no naval captain to be found.
Travis was speaking with Sergeant Havell near one of the troop transports and Veers made his way over.
“Has the Captain returned to the Executor?” he asked, and then paused as both men suddenly looked slightly guilty. “Tell me you didn’t lose him in all this. Was there a problem with cooperation…?”
He hoped not. Veers was interested, not only because Vader had wished the Captain to be given an even chance to prove himself, but also because there had been a particular stubborn glint to Piett’s eye. The man had already looked half dead, but Veers hadn’t missed the way his spine straightened when they’d met. Max had pulled up the Imperial file on Piett and done a few minutes of scanning.
Given the Axxilan background, Veers could take a reasonably correct guess regarding the reasons for Piett’s haggard appearance. Ozzel was not known to be kind or merciful to subordinates who did not fit his ideals.
Piett was exactly the sort that would make the bastard’s moustache twitch.
“Not at all, sir,” Travis said with another side glance to Havell. “If I wasn’t an army man to the core, I’d say it was a pleasure to work with a competent naval officer.”
Veers smiled a little at his second in command. “I think you can say it and keep your dignity, Travis. Now why do you both look as though you were caught smoking in the fresher?”
“Well you see, sir,” Travis began a little sheepishly. “I had Braxten look him over. The Captain requested a stim shot and given the sort of shape he was in, I thought we needed a medical opinion.”
Concern stirred in the pit of Veers’ stomach.
“And..?” he prompted, raising a stern eyebrow.
“Well, sir, Braxten okayed the shot if the Captain swore to rest after this mission, General. However, Piett said that he really didn’t think his schedule would allow it, but he’d be fine.”
“Get to the point, Colonel,” Veers ordered, folding his arms.
There was another glance between Travis and Havell.
“Sir, Braxten said he was critically exhausted and also has a cracked rib that wasn’t looked at. I ah…I took it upon myself to request the Captain’s assistance with our work for the next eight hours, General. The Admiral approved it.”
Of course he had.
A critically exhausted Outer Rim officer? Ordered to work more? Ozzel would be only too happy.
But Veers knew his people.
“What’s actually happening?” he asked.
“This way, General,” said Havell, both of them looking more hopeful now that Veers seemed to be going along with things.
He was led into the empty troop transport.
Well.
Not quite empty.
At the far end of the ship, one of the medbunks had been pulled down, and on this, Veers discovered the missing Captain.
He was quite obviously dead to the galaxy—-that sort of heavy bonelessness that only very deep sleep could bring.
Someone, undoubtedly the sheepish Sergeant beside him, had piled emergency blankets over him and it was clear Braxten took Piett’s health seriously indeed, judging by the drip attached to one hand.
“We thought, sir, um, the Colonel and I, that no one really needs this transport due to all the shuffling of personnel so when it goes to the Lady and docks…”
“You’re going to just let him sleep in the hangar bay,” Veers finished for him thoughtfully.
The Captain’s dark circles were exceedingly pronounced.
A cracked rib…
“How did he get the injury? Did Braxten say?” he inquired.
“The Captain said he fell, sir,” Havell replied. “Accident.”
“Right.”
Sergeant and General held each other's gaze for long seconds in perfect understanding.
“Well then. Obviously, you and Travis have decided to adopt a naval officer without asking, may I add—” He held up a hand when Havell opened his mouth. “---but as this is in line with Lord Vader’s personal orders, I will turn a blind eye to this. Inform the Captain that I wish to see him when he wakes up, will you?”
“Yes, General.” Havell looked hesitant, then took his courage in his hands. “It wasn’t his idea, sir. Braxten, the Colonel, and I all—-”
Veers sighed and raised his eyes to the roof.
“Yes, thank you , Sergeant. I’m reasonably good at figuring things out. I am not going to harm our naval acquisition.”
He dismissed Havell and considered the sleeping man. There was something special about Piett. Vader likely thought so too as their Supreme Commander had a good eye for talent. Veers was curious to know him better. But for now, he could join his people in giving the Captain the gift of sleep.