Chapter 8: The Will to Hold, depicting the Battle of Sullust, is here!
Rivoche tightened the straps on her armored vest and took the SoroSuub's X-80 from a quartermaster. She had always wanted to try one of those sniper rifles marketed as "sporting blasters", if only because they were prohibited by her uncle back on Eriadu.
Perhaps now was as good a time as ever.
She checked the sight picture, adjusted the stock, and gave a nod to the Sullustan. Outside the window walls, the absence of traffic flow was disturbing—Rivoche never thought she would miss such a ridiculous metropolitan sight. In its place, smoke and explosions were endlessly sparking from the blocks around the Imperial garrisons' positions.
There, and seemingly unstoppable streams of armors and tiny figures of black uniforms flowing right towards the SoroSuub HQ complex. Two panicked freighters rose from the HQ's landing pad, only to be vaporized by a string of deadly green shots of rapid-fire artillery instantly.
She suppressed a sigh. Holding her sinking heart firm, Rivoche put on her helmet and walked back into the main conference room.
Leia, now in an armored vest as well, was holding a Defender blaster pistol of her own. Satine's Lament, they called it. If war was peace's lament of this galaxy, it sure was a long one. Her face was as serious as ever. Her spirited brown eyes met Rivoche's, then darted at the sniper rifle in her hands. Leia nodded approvingly.
Besides her, Bribbs was standing at the window with a faraway look. He too was protected by an armored vest and a helmet, yet he wore it uncomfortably. The straps were slack or untied, almost as if they were forced onto him, despite the Sullustan-specific design. A handful of military staff stood a few steps away, their faces grim and ashen.
"So it begins," Bribbs said as the first wave of bright blue ion shots flew at the SoroSuub HQ, only to be absorbed by the invisible shield.
A shield that, Rivoche noted, would not last forever. She glanced at the other woman, who inspired hope in so many across the Galaxy.
Whose life was too valuable to risk in this building.
"I trust that you have all seen it. The airspace is locked," she said, the real question left unvoiced. A few Sullustan staff nodded unhappily.
"Fear not, Lady Tarkin," Bribbs smiled as he turned back towards the room. The corners of his jowl moved in a way that didn't reach his eye. "SoroSuub HQ has a built-in escape tunnel system. The Board of Directors have relocated already, to continue the fight once the HQ falls."
Will they, though? Rivoche shared a worried look with Leia.
"If. We are talking about the worst case scenario here," Leia corrected, well aware of increasingly despairing SoroSuub staff around them. Bribbs might be a decent diplomat, but he clearly had no clue on how to lead in a war.
Half of commanding is performing, Rivoche's dead uncle's sneer surfaced in her brain. And the other half is decades of hard work drilled into your intuition, which you will never understand without joining the Academy, young lady.
Now she half wished that she did.
"If you do say so," Bribbs waved in the air and sat back down at his huge, lavish desk. He poured three flutes of wine from a half-emptied bottle. "A toast, ladies?"
Rivoche winced. She shook her head as Leia outright ignored the Sullustan.
"I'll start, then. To a glorious sacrifice for the motherland! To the Sun, To the Death, To the Great Mountains!" Bribbs tilted his flute and drained it entirely, his hand shaking. "But the Imperials will not be here for another hour or so. You are safe to leave, and I advise you both to do so speedily. It is our doom and ours alone, after all."
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