THE SILVER COMMAND: CHAPTER 1 - SNOWDUST
summary: the princess, Idye Arsen, arrives back from a military mission to find her planet closing to fall in the empire remnants' claws.
warnings: none for now
rating: T
word count: 2.078k
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In a galaxy far, far away...
For many years, the Red twin system was a safe fortress for the rogue, for the powerful and for the weak, for the living and for the dead. No one would dare to cross the borders of the unknown, even less to defy the crown that served as its guardian.
No one but the ones who knew hopelessness for too long, and saw the galaxy reach a dangerous edge, closing to fall in the claws of the empire. When it happened, Neelbruk remained loyal to the separatist alliance, and the king watched the empire foreshadow every corner of the galaxy with unthinkable weapons and immense power, such that no warrior could stop it— long after the mandalorians’ arrival.
Rebelling against the rebels, the frozen planet stood tall without taking up sides until the rise of the New Republic. Hidden behind the red sun, Neelbruk remained firm before the threats of the empire and never bent down except for their own wars.
The house of Arsen did not give in, until the wars of the smoking coals of the empire was made their own.
⋯
Chapter 1: Snowdust
Neelbruk, House of Arsen’s Capitol planet
"Rogue-to-north, this is Harvest jay requesting confirmation for landing."
Above the white sky, dispersed clouds mixed and deflected the red sun's streaks of light through the transparisteel. The fields of frozen water and thick snow covered the landscape up until where the eyes could see as the ship slowed down after dropping from hyperspace. The smooth sound of the engines is cut by a frequential noise that soon merges into a mecanic voice through the comms.
"Harvest Jay, coupling confirmed in Hangar 8-6."
The pilot frowns, unsure on how to respond, "-negative, rogue-to-north, snowdust cargo on-board. Landing requested on Hangar 0-0" His voice fails to hide his concern as he takes his half gloved hands away from the joysticks to flip buttons above his head.
He was used to doing this kind of work. And modesty aside, he did it well. Despite setbacks and the observant gaze of the princess, he kept his mind on the protocols. Keep the princess safe and land the ship.
"What's going on?" Her voice came from behind him, and he turned his head just enough to capture her concerned figure. Her eyes with the same determined yet tired blue gaze from before. The pilot shrugs and shakes his head, still pondering a satisfying answer to give her.
"Harvest jay, requested hangar, is currently occupied by an imperial shuttle. More information to be given on land."
The pilot turns around in a quick motion to share a frightened glance with the princess, who stands with her hand in the pilot's chair. He sees a masked spark of hesitance in her features before she gives him a reassuring nod. Nevertheless, the corner of her lips tug downwards.
"Affirmative, rogue-to-north, Harvest jay to be landing on 8-6." He proceeds to click around the controls and pushes the ship to fly closer to the planet's surface.
The capitol was a huge settlement founded years before the fall of the high republic of durasteel and wood of all kinds. Wikkin was a huddle of starports— more of a stopover for passing travelers rather than a place to call home. The ones who dared to, gave blood and sweat to make the icy planet a little less harmer. The best of their efforts provided the capital city an electromagnetic shield that turned mild the planet’s bruising cold. Either way, there wasn’t much of a choice besides facing whatever surprises the snow storms brought to them.
As the Harvest jay lowered gradually into the ground, a stealthed hangar peaks open gated amid the gelid desert in wait for the royal shuttle that shortened the way crossing the sky over the city’s settlement.
"I have a bad feeling about this." The princess tightens her jaw as she beforehandly gets rid of the copilot’s seat belt.
The ship sways inside the hangar in a silent landing, slightly disturbed by the blizzard that followed along into the platform, wet by melted snow.
"And so do I, your highness.” The pilot, Raas’e, leans forward to finish the ship’s protocols. “...Allow me to shield you down the way."
The princess glances over at him, holding some of her belongings on hand as she focuses on his freckle framed gaze. “I don’t think it’s necessary, but I know you’re doing it anyway though.”
He gives her a mischievous smile, speaking before putting his mandalorian helmet back on. “Glad you know it.”
Workers and high-ranked soldiers look over from their busy work to watch Raas’e with his blue armor descend down the ship’s hatch wielding a rifle, closely followed by the careful steps of the princess. Her black hair was fairly tressed, and it fell tied back to her shoulders over the teal military suit. She cursed under her breath when she felt the contrast within the air of her homeworld against the warmth of Csilla, where she had stayed for no longer than two weeks on mission for the silver command. Messages or aid from the sentinels were not viable due to the essentiality to keep it undercover. Nevertheless, Arsen didn’t think the political situation of her family’s reign would critically change this quickly.
She followed down to the ziggurat’s lobby under Raas’e’s escort where a lilac-skinned twi’lek lady waited to offer a furry cape over her shoulders as soon as she approached.
Raas’e brought the princess up to the steps of the steel walled covert and maybe because of the lack of proper lighting Idye noticed the lack of movement in the halls.
The long foyers turned sharply,complementing the wood flooring that was successful in preserving the warmness as further as they went on the base. Some people transited over the hallways, with the exception of the guards on their posts staring straight ahead.
The way wasn't long to their destination. As he led the way, the sun shone over Raas'e's armor through the windows on the ceiling that provided light in a considerable spacement until a new gate lit up in sight.
Idye holds up a sigh As they enter another hangar, just as the platform they both first came to, but across the lurk. And unlike the previous one there were no ships, only a single airspeeder placed near the departure gate. She watches a mandalorian silhouette take shape as they abandon the darkness of another corridor. Raas’e stands up straightener when he sees the other mandalorian gaze catch on the princess first, and then on him.
The red armored figure speaks up first as they come closer. “I’m glad you made it back safely,” Her voice, clear and fruity, as the only confirmation ever for her to be Sif-Deen states as she greets Arsen with an extended arm. “I expected your output to be… troubled.”
“We managed to flee before the sunrise,” Idye explains, “Raas’e tracked the way back well.” Sif-Deen offers Raas’e an acknowledging nod, which he returns.
Sif-Deen tilts her helmet with a sigh before addressing the princess once again. “Things got heated while you were away. That’s why your return was anticipated.”
Idye frowns in shlight worry, searching for any connections with the constant imperial threat. “The imperial shuttle on the palace.” She realizes.
The mandalorian confirms briefly, visibly with an air of uneasiness, uttermost aware of the whole situation. "That’s where you need to head to, now.”
The princess feels a knot tying in her stomach as her mind soothes itself. “I figured.” She stares at the goggles Sif-Deen hands her before accepting it, and putting them on once she is inside the airspeeder.
Idye knew pretty much what was happening inside the walls of the palace, and that made her mind swing in the possibility of getting herself completely apart of the trouble. But she also knew she couldn't. Although she was able to withstand the conflicts in Csilla —which she classified as a real danger, but knew it would be treated as a minor inconvenience— arriving back to her main responsibilities felt like a weight falling back over her shoulders.
Neelbruk was coming to lose territory to the empire, but not without a fight. Csilla was taken and its habitants trapped under their cruel hand, battles happened everyday and each side just kept getting smaller and weaker. Without any communication other than word spread, Sif-Deen didn't have such information. She herself had little of it. And this, maybe, was the reason she was still alive.
There was nothing the empire wasn’t aware of. The furtive visit of the princess, who barely knew what to do for sure didn’t pass behind them. She felt guilty for not being able to give direction to the army with a proper defense plan; As any leader that cared about their nation, she was provoked as helpless just as her own army. And this was no truly aid.
Idye couldn’t say she had failed, but she also hadn’t made any advances. She had grown amongst the palace and the ziggurat, but at both places she had learnt the same thing— she wouldn’t carry the weight of the crown. She’d carry a blaster and the red west sun in a range. It took enough time for her to accept it, mainly after hearing that since she was a child. But as the time went on, she also learnt the weight she’d carry could be heavier than the one who wore the crown did.
Day after day, she remembered this when she used to train with Sif-Deen. But it could also be easy to forget it.
Sif-Deen pauses for a last moment before leaving the hangar to face the drive, lifting her gaze to address the soldier that had been guarding the princess. “Raas’e Hath, you’ve done great work. You will soon be addressed to a new task. Once the main conflict is resolved, of course.”
“Of course.” His answer is immediate, accompanied by a nod.
As the speeder soars through the fields of snow, the princess replays on her head the only scenes she was able to catch on Csilla. Soldiers of the silver command battling against waves and waves of stormtroopers. Little children protecting their even smaller siblings behind a rock. Peregrines begging the heavens kneeled amidst blaster shots. She had dreamed of the scenery twice since she left the battlefield, but she couldn't help it. To watch was her only choice.
Those dreams only reinforced the suspicion that, if the new republic didn’t make any efforts to claim jurisdiction over Neebruk's sector, despite the sporadic patrols, someone would.
“Idye,” Sif-Deen looks away from the endless white to stare at her, cutting her thoughts off, “You seem worried.”
“I am. Csilla was collapsing before my eyes.” Arsen huffs, avoiding Sif-Deen’s gaze as she responds, “I don’t… want to be at war with the empire.”
The mandalorian exhales, after clicking around the controls. “The fact is, kid, that we’ve been at war with the empire long before you came to existence.”
One more thing Idye was used to hearing about back and forth; the battles, the jedi, the night of a thousand tears, the clones, the death star and just everything else. But yet while enjoying the freedom all of these sacrifices provided, people were still enthralled. Nothing of that had ended. It haunted her the way they told it like it was a long gone past when it was right behind them.
“We don’t decide if we want it. We have to find our part in this battle, before it finds a part for us we don’t want to play.” Sif-Deen’s dark visor meets Idye’s gaze and the princess seems to silently disagree with her statement, but out of the respect she has towards Sif-Deen, she says nothing about it. “You know that, don’t you?”
A brief moment later the princess' answer comes. “Yes.”
Ice fields dominate the landscape threatening with its burning wind the tiny plantations that grew timidly under the greenhouses, scattered eventually behind black rockery slopes the closer they reached to the city.
As a stop for the dispodent, the capital was pretty much a huddle of hangars, workshops, commercial centers, and hostages. It wasn’t a necessarily long road, until the view made it known. Despite its beauty, it didn’t have much to offer for its permanent residents.
Humans and non-humans had their motives to stray away, or to stay.
Idye Arsen struggled on finding motives for her own.
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