Chapter Text
The man was too quiet. The only skill he seemed to possess was the ability not to be seen . To blend into the background. And that was not something Veers tended to trust.
Even now, as he oversaw the vac heads working with Veers’ people in reorganizing Bay 14, one wouldn’t know he was the officer in charge. And it was clear the navy boys didn’t really see him as authoritative either. There were a great deal of resentful looks and curled lips.
“What’s his name?” Veers murmured to Travis from where they stood right outside Veers’ office.
“Piett,” the Colonel replied. “New transfer from Avenger. Huh.” He raised his eyebrows as he tapped at his data pad. “He was the Captain. Wonder what he did to get demoted here.”
Of course. Wonderful. Naturally, Ozzel would send him not only some mouse of an officer, but one who’d been demoted for Force knew what reasons.
Of course, why the kark had he been transferred to the flagship? Demotion or no, a flagship appointment was prestigious.
“Rank?” Veers asked Travis.
“Still Captain, but he’s head of comms on the senior bridge, apparently,” his second in command replied.
And this Captain had not even bothered to find Veers, or Travis for that matter, before he came down here to liaise with the army crew.
Right.
“Then I think I should introduce myself,” Veers said grimly, tugging at his cap, and Travis grinned discreetly.
“Yes, sir . I’ll be right here watching, General.”
Veers strode over to the slight naval officer who was observing the crew work, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Are you in charge of this team, Captain?” he asked, voice as cold as space dust.
The officer’s jaw tightened at the tone and he tilted his head up to meet Veers’ eyes, face set in a hard, neutral mask.
“Yes, sir, I am,” he replied in elegant Core tones.
Hm. Maybe that was why he was here. Ozzel was notoriously elitist when it came to the senior bridge and staffed it with Core sycophants.
“And you didn’t feel the need, Captain , to come and report to the senior officer on deck before you got started?”
The naval man inhaled quietly, slightly crooked nose flaring a little as he composed himself to answer.
“I had…understood, sir, that I had found the senior officer.”
Judging by the quickly suppressed grins on a few of the army faces present, Veers could guess what had occurred. Some pranking between the naval newbie and the army then. And while he always appreciated taking it out on the vac heads, Veers appreciated order and discipline more.
“You did not , Captain.”
Piett gave a little incline of the head and then brought his hands around so that he could snap off a crisp salute—-spine still straight as a compass.
“Then, General, permission to work in the bay, sir .”
It was interesting that the naval crew behind the Captain had the nastier expressions as they watched this exchange. Veers quelled them with one steel gaze before returning his attention to Piett.
“Granted, Captain. Do your due diligence next time, hmm? We don’t expect a great deal from the navy, but an attempt at competence would be appreciated.”
A slight flush tracked up the man’s cheekbones, but he held his ground with professionalism.
“Yes, sir.”
Veers turned his back contemptuously and stalked back to Travis.
“Think he’ll recover?” the Colonel asked as the two of them entered the General’s office for the weekly meeting.
“If he can’t, he doesn’t belong on this ship,” Veers said and the door hissed shut behind them.
***
The thing was—-he couldn’t seem to avoid Piett.
Apparently, Ozzel had unofficially made him the chief liaison between the army and the navy. So this meant the chances of Veers seeing him increased exponentially. But even so, he felt it rather unfair that he would run into Piett as often as he did.
Such as now, when the closest officer’s mess was full and Veers was coming off of a rather brutal ground campaign. He was utterly starving and of course there was a debrief meeting in twenty minutes because Ozzel liked things to be ‘prompt’. It was one of his skeevy little ways to try and appear competent.
He was going to have bacon, damn it, and it didn’t matter that it was the processed version rather than something from Mac’s galley. He needed the taste and the protein. But on grabbing his tray with the caf and a large helping of grelb eggs, he discovered that there was only one feasible option for seating.
It was a small table by the viewport and as he wanted to gather his thoughts, rather than join any of the crowded tables, he headed that way.
Just his luck then that someone else seated themselves there moments before he arrived, and the Force was laughing because it was the ever irritating naval Captain.
Gritting his teeth, because breakfast , Veers steeled himself.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked in tones that didn’t really offer a choice.
Piett glanced up, a genuinely startled expression on his face. Then the mask came down and the chin came up.
“Ah…I was hoping to get some work done, General. The army tables have some room surely…”
Veers raised an eyebrow at him and set his tray down with a solid thunk .
“I also intend to get some work done, Captain . You weren’t really thinking you could refuse my… request, surely?”
“Of course not, sir,” Piet returned flatly, gesturing at Veers’ tray. “By all means.”
Veers seated himself regally and decided that Piett’s reaction merited the Captain not getting any work done.
He scanned the man’s tray.
A boiled egg, tea— really? , and a moblix fruit.
“You could use more protein, I would think, Piett,” he said, and was rewarded with the slightly irritated tic at the corner of the officer’s mouth as he raised his head from his data pad.
“This is sufficient, thank you, sir,” he replied in that same carefully neutral tone.
“Well you’re not built very large,” Veers continued with false geniality as he chomped some of his bacon. “I would have thought that even the navy had more significant height requirements.”
Piett pressed his lips together briefly.
“I passed all physical requirements, sir .”
“Well, you haven’t touched your breakfast. Get on with it.”
Piett held his gaze, and for a brief moment, there was a flash in those hazel eyes, but then he turned his attention to his tray and took one bite of his moblix.
Veers continued to crunch happily away at his bacon, well aware that the noise was no doubt irritating to the other man.
Piett seemed strangely reluctant to eat in the General’s presence and Veers gestured expansively.
“Don’t let me stop you, Captain. Eat up.”
The corners of Piett’s eyes tightened as he stared hard at the tray before he returned his expression to neutrality.
“Had some…stomach issues, sir,” he replied stiffly.
And now that Veers really looked at him, Piett did seem pale—more than the usual starship skin tone. His eyes were exceedingly shadowed as well, as though he hadn’t slept in some time.
“A little too delicate for starship fare?” Veers asked as Piett lifted his tea and sipped cautiously.
This time the Captain actually huffed through his nose, but he controlled himself.
“No, General,” he answered, setting down the mug with careful precision. “I...” He paused, and again a flicker of humanity passed over his countenance. “I’m sure it will pass,” he settled on, rising. “The table is yours, sir,” he said with cold politeness. “Pardon me.”
It was no wonder the navy was in the state it was in , Veers reflected, taking large swallows of caf as he watched that slim figure leave the mess. With such fragile officers as that. Stars.
*****************
The sheer amount of Core snobs on this ship surely should have thrown off the gravity systems by now, Piett thought.
A year upon the Executor had been frankly excruciating, and he was still no closer to finding out why he’d been transferred here, and more importantly, who had requested him.
Because it sure as hells hadn’t been Ozzel.
The man did everything short of hold his nose when Piett was on the bridge, and he’d figured out early on that he must keep his head down and focus on doing his duty to the best of his ability. If he took the bait from any of the officers in Ozzel’s circle it would not go well for him and Piett knew it.
So who needed sleep? Or food? Or decent working conditions?
There were exactly three bright spots in the bleak expanse that was his life, having been yanked from his own command on Avenger.
- A mysterious benefactor always had hot tea waiting for him in his small quarters. He did not have a galley. And while he did have a kettle, it was not the sort that could be programmed to have tea ready whenever he finally got off of his shift. And that was an ever changing time table. Somehow, this person always knew. And it wasn’t just any tea—it was Axxilan spice. He could only assume it was a droid delivery—but how did they know the times?
- The Executor was the most beautiful ship in the galaxy and he could appreciate her beauty even if he had not wished to lose his own command to serve upon her. The Lady was just that—elegant, well designed, and brilliant in every way. Sometimes he almost imagined she knew that he regarded her in this light because the lift seemed to take him just a bit faster, and the temperature in his quarters was always right. This was of course, silly, but he would take his small joys where he could get them.
- His small comms crew might actually respect him now. They were the people he worked with most closely and they knew what lengths he’d gone to for them. Tom Venka was a decent sort—might even be a friend if Ozzel allowed such a thing for Piett. But no one dared openly befriend him on the Senior bridge. Everyone knew the Admiral hated having the Rimmer there and while many officers were at least polite now, no one was actually friendly.
And his difficulties were too numerous and too depressing to list. Piett suppressed a sigh as he spotted a tall form approaching him with that confident and targeted step.
General Maximilian Veers.
Somehow he’d managed to get on the man’s bad side from the moment he’d set foot on the deck of that hangar bay. And all right, yes, Piett knew he’d been skating the line of respect a few times, but Force damn it, the man had not even given him a shot. Had just assumed Piett was a weak and vacuous naval toff, and had written him off from that moment.
No doubt Piett was about to endure another set of orders designed to allow both army and navy personnel to make veiled insults about their Axxilan liaison.
“Piett,” Veers snapped, completely ignoring Piett’s salute and fixing him with a cold stare. “We have a mission planetside in one hour. Your presence is apparently required to make sure you vac heads can manage to drop us in the correct spots and not into the middle of the ocean. Think you can manage that?”
Piett allowed himself the small treat of picturing the General plunging into the ocean from the Lady, while he outwardly nodded crisply.
“Yes, sir. What sort of equipment should I—-?”
Veers pressed his lips together. “See Travis for that,” he said, his expression long suffering. “And stay out of our way. Do your job and don’t kark up our mission.”
“And what is it we’re doing, General?” Piett dared to ask, falling into step with Veers.
“Found a significant Rebel nest,” Veers told him, clearly not wishing to speak more with the Captain. But Piett was determined to know as much as possible about this. He’d not been on a ground mission before to organize army and navy coordination (at least not in the Imperial forces)—-he’d always been stationed on the ship. No doubt Ozzel was hoping he’d get shot then.
“Travis will fill you in on the rest,” Veers said. “You will report to him.”
***
And so it was that Piett found himself in field boots and a cuirass, blaster strapped to his thigh and comms equipment on his back. He’d also helped himself to a sniper rifle when Travis took him to weapons storage. The Colonel had lifted an eyebrow at him, but made no objection.
Piett liked to be prepared. He’d led countless missions similar to this in the Axxilan fleet, and being able to shoot accurately from a long distance had saved both his and others’ lives many times over.
The moment he stepped from the shuttle landing ramp to the earth, the explosions started and hadn’t stopped.
So here he was—having set up in the natural cover in the bed of a dried up river—-talking to his counterparts in orbit and organizing the landing points as Travis ordered them.
“Two gozantis coming your way—” came Venka’s voice, and then the shriek of an incoming missile drowned him out.
Piett dove to the earth, taking the equipment with him to protect it as much as possible. The ground shook with impact and he was half buried in rubble, several larger river stones impacting his back and left knee quite painfully.
He rolled over, coughing and spitting dirt.
And then the Rebels were on him.
Where had they even come from?
There were five in his immediate vicinity and the blaster rifle was too far to get to. His side arm was in his hand moments later and he downed two while still lying on his back.
“Sir!”
Two of Veers’ people scrambled down the bank to support him and he recognized the big sergeant—Ellery—as one of them.
Now it was three on three and Piett was given enough time to get to his feet while the two army men fought with him.
Hopefully it was just a scouting party.
His hope was short lived when a roar went up from the opposite bank and he realized that he and the two other Imperials were facing an attempted flanking maneuver by the Rebel forces.
There wasn’t time .
“Fall back!” he roared to Ellery, and then turned to sprint for where he’d last left his rifle and was pleased that it was there, if covered in dirt.
High ground. He needed a spot—-
He tapped at his personal comms as he ran.
“Venka!” he gasped. “Direct a TIE squad to this location!”
To Tom’s credit he didn’t waste time asking why and Piett could hear him ordering this as he gripped the bottom branch of a large tree and swung himself up.
“You filthy little coward!” roared Ellery behind and below him, but the Captain didn’t have time to explain. He tapped his comms, cutting Venka off in mid question and then hauled himself up two more branches. There was a broad spot there where that one branch joined the trunk...
“Veers!” he snapped without preamble. “They’ve sent a force on our southeast. Trying to flank us!”
“Who is this?” the General snarled back. “What—?”
“ Piett !” Piett replied, stretching himself along the branch and planting his boots against the trunk behind him to stabilize himself as he brought the sniper rifle to bear. “I set up my station in the dry river bank in this direction! You have people down there and—”
Oh kark . These Rebels had mobile laser cannon. It wasn’t just the ones Veers was dealing with then. Better equipped than they’d thought.
“How many?” Veers rapped out. He was officer enough not to question further, and he wouldn’t let his animosity toward Piett stop him from being the excellent leader he was.
“Six hundred? About?” Piett hissed, trying to quiet his breathing and blend in as he sighted down the scope. “I’ve ordered a TIE hit to this location, but it will take time to get here!”
“I’m sending a unit!” Veers told him. “Find cover!”
And the comms cut.
Piett waited, using the scope to get a better idea of what they were up against. He could see where Ellery and the other trooper were firing at the oncoming Rebels. Their cover wasn’t great.
He swung the rifle to the left—-
There.
A decent rock outcrop.
“Ellery!” he called.
The attack was too loud and the Sergeant too far to hear him. Force damn it.
Piett took aim and fired right at the man’s feet.
Ellery whipped about to look where the shot had come from and Piett flicked the light on his rifle at him three times. Quick. Slow. Slow . Imperial code for friendly.
He saw the moment comprehension dawned and Ellery whipped his binocs up to be able to see Piett better.
The Captain made several curt motions with his hands.
Cover. Fifty yards left. I’ll cover you.
Ellery nodded and turned to his companion.
Piett brought his focus back to the oncoming Rebels.
Five blaster cannon. No doubt numerous denton launchers judging by the distinctive shapes on the backs of quite a few troops. All right. He’d make the first wave be cautious and then pick off the cannon operatives when they fired back. He glanced behind him. That tree there would be his fall back. He had no doubt this one would be useless shortly.
Piett picked his mark, blew out a quiet breath and squeezed the trigger.
Again. Again. Again.
He saw Ellery and the trooper make a break for the large rocky outcrop as the Rebels tried to pinpoint his location.
He lost track of how many went down before the first laser cannon fired at him.
It took out numerous branches above him and he covered his head with his arms.
Amateurs. They should go for the trunk lower down.
Before they figured this out however, he intended to take out the operatives at the cannon.
Which he did, before swinging the rifle and firing at the next cannon which was coming to bear on him.
Good.
The Rebels had paused and were digging in, clearly unsure of how many enemies they were facing. Even so, Piett hoped to the Force that Veers got his people together here or this defense would be very short lived.
Now three laser cannons were pinpointing his tree. Piett took out two more Rebels before he slung the rifle over his back and shimmied down the tree double time.
It exploded into splinters as he hit the dirt and he rolled away as fast as he could before coming to his knees and then pushing up to run for the tree he’d marked earlier as his fallback.
The toppling tree behind him helped cover his retreat, but blaster fire nipped at his heels as he reached the next tree.
Lungs and arms burning, he hauled himself up at a furious pace, until he found a decent branch to take up his sniper position once more.
Ellery and the trooper were doing a decent job defending themselves, and Piett did his best to help them out if the enemy got too close to their position. But he was focused chiefly on preventing those laser cannons from crossing the dry river bed.
Breathe. Fire. Breathe. Fire.
His shoulders ached from his position and then—-
Oh kriff .
The troops wielding the denton launchers had snuck toward the edge of the bank closer to his side and now rose to their knees in a coordinated movement, their launchers on their shoulders.
Piett swung down from his branch, hanging from it with both hands, and that was as far as he got before the tree was blown apart.
He landed hard and something collided with the back of his head, smashing his face into the dirt.
He couldn’t breathe . This was it then. He tried to move, tried to get some sort of function out of his limbs, fumbling for his side arm because the Rebels would be on him any minute and—-
The ground shook in a rhythmic way and then strong hands gripped his arms, hauling him away from the debris and Piett’s lungs recalled at last how to draw in air.
“....sir! Can you hear me?”
Ellery’s face was before his and Piett nodded, whooping and hacking, but taking in blessed, blessed oxygen.
“Thank the Force,” Ellery breathed.
Around them, reassuring Imperial uniforms were moving and the rhythmic thumping was from four AT-STs.
Overhead, two TIEs screamed past, making certain to chase the Rebels back to their holes.
Ellery guided Piett to a stump where he sat and fumbled at his cuirass so he could try to breathe more freely.
The sergeant pulled out a field kit and did a quick exam for any broken bones, but Piett already knew he didn’t have any. He was bruised to hell and everything hurt, but nothing was life threatening.
“You have a concussion, Captain,” Ellery declared, and yes, that was not surprising.
“Thank you, Sergeant,” he sighed, removing his cap and running a hand through his sweaty hair. “Some painkillers for now, please. And if there’s any chance my comms equipment made it, I’d appreciate trying to do my job.”
Ellery looked at him skeptically, but knew better than to question a superior officer openly. He rose and organized some troopers to look for Piett’s unit before he opened a water bottle and handed it to the Captain.
He stayed with Piett for the next several hours while Piett once again directed naval personnel with his battered but still working comms. He understood from Travis that the mission had gone as well as could be expected. The Colonel had even deigned to compliment Piett’s quick action in reporting the flanking attempt before they moved on to the business of pulling their troops and weaponry from the planet’s surface.
And it was in a lull during all of this that Piett roused himself from his focus on the ground and found himself staring at a pair of dusty field boots, which, he found upon lifting his gaze, belonged to one General Maximilian Veers.
***************
Piett had clearly been through it, Veers thought as he approached the naval officer. He looked as though he’d been rolling around in the dirt, which was not all that far off according to Ellery.
His cuirass lay abandoned beside him and his comms equipment was sitting on a small field table someone had retrieved. A blaster rifle was leaning against the stump the man was seated on and a water bottle dangled from his fingers.
Veers strode right up to him, and yes, he was definitely concussed judging by the puzzlement on his face as he slowly blinked up at the General.
“We’re done here, Captain,” Veers said without preamble.
Piett made to rise and then his face took on a comical expression of surprise when he staggered and fell back onto his stump.
“Braxten,” Veers called, and his medic came hurrying over. “Ellery says he’s concussed. Check him out would you?”
Piett had gathered himself now and more focus returned to his posture and countenance as Braxten knelt in front of him.
“It’s not bad,” he managed as he squinted from the light Braxten shined in his eyes. “I’ve been able to carry out my duties, General, so—”
“Definitely concussed, sir,” Braxten interrupted calmly. “You should have gone to the medics immediately, Captain. These things aren’t just shrugged off.”
Piett raised an eyebrow at him.
“Having had several before, sometimes that’s exactly what you have to do,” he informed Braxten. The medic rolled his eyes and gave him a shot of vilaxyl to alleviate the worst of the effects.
“We’re heading back to the ship,” Veers informed Piett. “You’re with me. I want to hear your report.”
Piett’s jaw worked as though he wanted to say something, but he merely nodded and rose slowly, staying on his feet this time.
“Yes, sir.”
Veers had already heard from Ellery in great detail and there was much he wished to ask this Axxilan Captain about.
He set his pace more slowly to accommodate the stiff movements of the other officer and eventually they reached Veers’ shuttle. Ellery, who had insisted on carrying Piett’s equipment, stowed this away and then, unprompted, returned with another water bottle and a field blanket which he shook out and draped over the Captain’s shoulders where he sat in the passenger hold.
“Thank you, Captain,” he said with a quick touch to the slim shoulder and then he disappeared to the lower hold to allow his General privacy.
There was a long beat as the lamda lifted smoothly and Veers removed his helmet, considering what he wanted to say first. He decided that facts were always easiest for him.
“Ellery says you took out at least fifty Rebels on your own,” he remarked, and that shadowed hazel gaze met his. But this time Veers had a different context for that contemplative expression.
“I wasn’t counting,” came the reply in hoarse tenor tones.
A pause.
“Where did you get sniper training?” Veers asked curiously, stretching out his sore legs.
Piett gave a short, mirthless laugh.
“I didn’t go to any academies in that sense, General,” he replied, opening the water and taking a long drink. “I learned in the field. I’m a reasonable shot, so they had me keep doing it.”
A reasonable shot.
“I would have you take point any time,” Veers said mildly. “If that’s your idea of a ‘reasonable’ shot. Did you climb trees in the field as well? And what the kark is a naval man doing in the field so often you can be that adept?”
Piett gave him that assessing look again. Yes, Veers understood his caution now. Life on Ozzel’s ship had not been easy for the Captain.
“I believe you know I’m from Axxila, General,” Piett said carefully. “We…do not have many resources. If one is in the Anti-Pirate Fleet, he’d better get familiar with all sorts of jobs to survive.”
Veers recalled the little bit of footage he’d reviewed from one of the TIE ventral cameras. The bit right before Piett was blown out of his tree.
The cold precision of his shots was impressive. And he’d chosen his targets strategically, forcing the Rebels to pause and utilize their cannon. This in turn had made it easy for Veers’ troops to get to the position and take them down effectively.
Piett leaned his head back wearily against the bulkhead as they left the atmosphere.
“Captain,” Veers said, and Piett flicked his eyes back to him. “I’m not the navy’s biggest fan.”
Piett’s jaw tightened.
“But you can work with me anytime,” the General continued. “Travis says we’ve never had a smoother ground to air coordination. I value competence. Think we can go from there?”
He rose and held out a hand.
Slowly Piett reached out to grip it and they shook.
“All right then,” Veers said, and strode up to the cockpit.