Change of Uniform

Setting

One year before the Battle of Yavin (34:7:8) aboard the Rebel Sector Command Base (space station).

Characters

Lieutenant Haru Clow'Nski, Major Dagon Tong, and Lieutenant General Akilist Volkov.

Space stations had a way of being very quite. Trapped in deep space, the few sound that reached the Ringali Nebula Station rarely penetrate the hull. It was quieter still in the station's brig. The room was dimly lit, confining, and hard. When sounds did penetrate, they were usually sudden and abrupt. As was the sound of the door opening to the cell of one Major Dagon Tong. Standing in the door way was a Bothan male in a very formal looking Rebel uniform. Behind him was another man standing back in the shadows. His rank indicated a Lieutenant General, but the shadows took his face and nameplate.

Dagon Tong had been stripped of the storm trooper armor, but allowed to change back into his civilian clothes. Certainly not what he thought of as standard procedure. Stripped of all his weapons, he seemed almost dejected, sitting on his cot, his head up just enough to see who came into his cell. He did not expect this to be a pleasant meeting. Had roles been reversed, he certainly would not have made it so. Torture was a given, and that did not matter whether or not he told them everything up front or not. They would have to verify he was telling the truth, and a few additional hours of torture would save them days using other means. But though Tong looked as if he were ready to go gentle, he was caught in a dilemma. Part of him would not allow such an idea for longer than a few seconds. It screamed for him to advise the rebels entering to go find love in the tentacles of a sarnak, or the jowls of a Hutt. But the other part knew the situation, and wanted survival above all. So he sat quietly, waging his internal battle, and waited. The memory of the last time he had been tortured for such reasons snuck in, but not as trepidation. Just as a reminder of how he might be able to escape. But that would probably be fruitless. If he waited as long as he did last time, he would not have the strength to escape from a space station filled with hostiles.

"Major Tong..." the Bothan strode slowly into the room as if ponder something deep and meaningful, "Major Dagon Tong. How old that name seems to me now. You know I remember hearing stories about you when I was young. Granted, most weren't that flattering, but stories nonetheless. Of course, I've always been fond of stories. Do you like stories Major Tong?"

Dagon made no effort to reply, instead, keeping his eyes on the speaker, but not shifting. There was not a nervous tic to the man, not a muscle spasm or an involuntary dilation or restriction in his pupil. He simply sat and watched, in a very neutral stance.

The Bothan leaned back against the bulkhead next to the door, crossing him arms. He looked a little perplexed about something, "Now I heard a strange story the other day. It was a story of a terrorist attacking on an Imperial installation on Cormond.  Yet ... oddly enough it was not perpetrated by one of the rebels. Now of course the Empire, in their high and mightiness are telling people that it was rebels, attempting to disrupt a local election. But of course, I know better then that. But that part of the story isn't the unusual part. Know what is? It was that fleeing from the scene was an old mercenary. And he got dropped on by a snot nose rookie rebel." the Bothan was referring to the Private Dorn Belu, who was a very accomplished soldier. The belittling of Belu was more to make Tong feel weak. "Now this part of the story I know. It is the other half that i am dieing to find out. "

Tong recognized the interrogation trick instantly. He had never enjoyed interrogation, though he had been brutally efficient at them. He just let the Bothan talk, waiting for a point to be made, a question to actually be asked, so he could decide if he was actually going to answer it.

"What? You don't feel like answering? What a shame! I had been waiting to hear this story. I wanted to take it home and share it with my children. Tell it to my mistress. Laugh about it with your mother. I assume it has to be a great story. How did the infamous Dagon Tong end up running for his life on Brentaal, and where has he been for the past decade or so. Please, enlighten me on something."

"If you take stories like mine back to your children, then you aren't exactly the shining example the Rebels want to present to the galaxy." It was his first comment, but he figured that this wasn't going to move fast one way or another, and it was easier to just get it out of the way now. The internal battle had been won. "And I was running because I was wanted for terrorism, and all the men in my team had been killed during their arrest."

The Bothan smiled at Dagon's joke, and then grew serious as he spoke, "Terrorism? Who were you working for? What was your target?"

The cold veneer of the mercenary did not crack in the least when he raised his head to face the Bothan fully. "I was working for the Empire. Have been since the clone wars. Storm Commandos. I targeted primarily what ISB told me to target."

"And ISB told you to target other Storm Troopers and an Imperial Sensor Arrays?" the Bothan retorted.

Dagon shrugged at the question. It seemed like something that the answer was rather obvious. "I did that to expedite my own escape from Brentaal after the Empire deemed me a terrorist and killed the four storm commandos under my command living in a safe house in Cormond."

The Bothan shifted his stance a little bit, pure curiosity drifting onto his face, "So a squad of the Empire's private terrorist, were deemed terrorist against the Empire. Well now this story does seem interesting Major Tong. Why would they do that?" The fact that the Bothan was referring to him by his Imperial rank was sign enough that the Bothan had at least been aware of him being a member of the Empire.

"Perhaps you should send a comm to Admiral Rodney and ask him. He is the only one that I know of with the power to order the arrest of my men without my knowledge, the only one who has the power to mobilize an entire garrison to hunt for one man."

The Bothan answered matter-of-factually, "I'm sure you at least have a "suspicion" as to why. I have my own, but I'm sure you're will be much more...entertaining"

"Then you don't spend enough time hopping from planet to planet. I was the last off Raltirr, and I had just arrived back on Brentaal and was on my way to meet my men. I was a block away when I realized that the APC was parked in front of their door, and the bodies being carried out on slabs were theirs."

The Bothan raised his hand to gesture at the walls, "This station does seem to isolate us, as I'm sure you now know. So let's say I believe you. You are now a wanted man by the Empire. You are on the run and taking out what ever you can to do so. Why did one of our rookies get the drop on you?"

“Because I'd been on the go for almost a standard week, and I thought I was clear until I reached the next space port. I got lazy." Only partially the truth. The faces of the men he had lost to something that smelled entirely political flashed through his mind, but were not allowed to stay. He knew they had no place here. Perhaps one day he would be able to repay whoever was responsible for this in a similar fashion. They thought they had won, he knew that, and they had stripped away the closest thing he had to a family. So who ever had initiated was going to suffer a similar fate that much he was dead sure of.

At this point, the Lieutenant General who had been standing in the shadows stepped into the doorway, revealing his face and the nameplate of Volkov. He spoke in a low voice, his eyes locking in on Tong's, "Tell me about the men you loss.  How long had you served together?"

"Long enough to trust them." He certainly did not want to talk about that. They were dead after all. His face remained even and cold, as did his eyes. The stillness persisted as well, almost as if he had been paralyzed.

"Answer the question!" The Bothan had picked up on it. He was sure to now take this vein of pain and follow it. The Lieutenant General on the other hand just continued to look at the Commando, as if trying to read the man's soul. The Bothan took a seat while speaking semi sarcastically, "But surely you did. In battle, one must trust those he fights beside. But i bet they felt nothing for you. I hear most non-clones rarely fit into Commando squads with out an excessive amount of alienation. Did they like you Major Tong? Did you like them?"

"We trusted each other." A soldier would understand the answer, and know that regardless of how a man behaved even in combat, if he was trusted, that was it. No second-guessing it. It did not matter if he was hated, so long as he was trusted.

"Answer the question!" The Empire may have been known for using hatred to win over mercenaries to their sides, but the Rebel Alliance was jam packed full of people who volunteered to fight because of their hatred. The Bothan wanted that hatred. It was his lifeline to seeing if the man was telling the truth.

"I just did." There was the slightest edge in his voice, a touch of anger perhaps, though given the utter lack of emotion shown to that point … it might as well have been an explosion. The gentlest shift occurred in his posture, a more aggressive stance even though he did not leave the cot, his shoulders coming forward and his arms tensing just barely. But his eyes did not change. They remained dead, just as they had in the Empire. It made him nearly unreadable, barring his actions.

A guard stepped into the doorway, feeling the tension rise in the room. The Bothan was ready to snap back like a crazed Wookiee on spice, but was met by Volkov's hand. His eyes were still locked onto Tong's while he spoke, "Exceptional job Captain. You may excuse us now." The Bothan smiled politely at the two men, very uncharacteristically from his prior demeanor. "Yes Sir." The guard and the Bothan had soon left the room and the General was talking a seat. His face showed no signs of anger ... just a simple and slight tone of sympathy. "I hate those guys ... interrogators, not Bothans ... too much.  I am Lieutenant General Akilist Volkov. It seems we are in a strange predicament right now Major Tong. I have an infamous mercenary, a confessed Storm Commando, and an extremely dangerous man sitting in my brig. I need to know what to do with him."

"That is something you'll have to decide for yourself." He was not feeling nearly so cooperative at this point. He was boiling deep down, and was ready for phase two, what ever that might be. "My command is dead."

Volkov was doing nothing to mask his emotions. He wanted Tong to realize that he was not talking to him as if he were some prisoner still being questioned. He was talking to him, one sentient being to another, "Actually it is up to you... partly. I see before me an extremely well trained soldier who has seen more years of hard combat then most of my men combined. I see a fountain of talent and experience that I may need to let waste. But it does not have to be that way.”

"What are my options? Re-indoctrination? I think the Kaminoans tried it once; it did not take. I have men that need planted, and bodies to lay beside them. You going to let me out of here to so I can go fight a private war?"

"Actually I hope that your war would be less private. As to the re-indoctrination … no. You will decide what is right for you know matter what. It does not matter what we will try to teach you or get you to believe, it only matters what you believe yourself. Always remember that your life is not a sum of the actions that happen to you, but the compilation of your reaction to those actions. Believe what you will. By now I'm sure you know what I am offering you. The other option is plainly clear as well," indicating the cell. "If you want to do this because you believe joining us will be your chance at revenge, so be it. If you believe that it is your only chance to live through this excitement, So Be It. What ever your rational maybe, for either choice, it will because you choose that path. Not because we tried to force your mind..." He paused for a moment as if in deep thought and then looked up. Volkov's right hand slowly rose and waved in front of them as he spoke, "You want to join our cause... No? Nothing? It was worth a try."

He stood up suddenly with a tired shrug. "Spend some time thinking about it. Either way, you will probably have to stay in here for a while. We need time to verify that everything you just told us wasn't just an elaborate lie." He stood in the doorway studying Tong for any sign of what his feelings might be.

The mercenary had calmed a bit, though the offer had caught him off guard. He had expected torture and execution. Instead he had been offered a job. And it was one that worked with his current goals. And would allow him to walk free and clear, and perhaps get his hands on Rodney and who ever else was responsible for his team's death. "I'll fight the war. The cause is meaningless to me, just as the Empire's was."

"Understood. I would expect no more or less from you Major Tong. For now you will remain here. I will see what I can do to make your accommodations a little better. Here, take some reading material." Volkov reach his hand to the side of the doorway, out of view, and yanked a datapad away from someone seated there. He then tossed the datapad to the mercenary. "It's probably one of the latest romance stories... but it beats staring at the walls." He nodded to Tong, and then look to the side of the door, speaking in a very deep and authoritative voice to hidden guard seated outside the door, "make sure to see me in my office later, Private." As the Volkov walked away, the cold gray hatch whisked closed.

Tong did not take up the datapad, did not even give it a skeptical glance. He his mind had gone far beyond the walls of the brig, or the confines of the space station. He was back on Brentaal and the Warspite, processing everything he could remember about ever person he had seen in the garrison and the ship. Someone had broken his only real rule as far as employment. Always pay what you owe, and do not hire out for something done that you do not have the ability to pay for. Instead of credits, his men had been butchered. A debt had been left open.