The compound was silent, save for the distant whir of repulsorlift engines and the echo of marching boots below. Captain Aaron Rysell stood in the observation chamber of the North-Eastern tower, hands folded behind his back as the early light of Christophsis filtered through the tall durasteel-glass panels. Crystal City glistened below, a deceptive view of serenity under Imperial occupation.
The door hissed open, and Elia stepped in—escorted by two white-armored stormtroopers who promptly exited, leaving her alone with the man who had uprooted her life.
"Why am I here, you have no cause," she said coldly, her arms crossed. Her voice wavered ever so slightly, but she hid the nerves behind a wall of steel. Her eyes, sharp as vibroblades, stared into his back.
Aaron didn't turn around—not yet.
"I do, your friends message was intercepted. You just fit the profile we needed," he said, voice measured and almost conversational, and Elia's eyes narrowed. "I believe you've been misled, Elia. I believe you deserve the truth."
"The truth?" she scoffed. "Is that what this is now? Lies paraded around with Imperial fanfare?"
He finally turned, his gaze calm and steady. He took a few steps toward the holotable in the center of the room, activating it with a flick of his hand. A projection shimmered into existence—grainy footage, but clear enough to show the chaos of a Christophsis market. Smoke, blaster fire, bodies strewn.
Elia frowned.
"This is where your parents were killed," Aaron said, voice low. "The official report, the one you were fed, stated they were caught in an altercation with an Imperial patrol. That they were executed without cause. Convenient, emotional. Easy to hate us for it."
Her eyes narrowed. "And now you want to rewrite it?"
"I want you to see what was kept from you," he replied simply. "What the Black Vow never intended for you to know."
He tapped the holotable again, and the feed reversed, fast-forwarding to another angle. The scene slowed—two figures, unmistakably her parents, moving through the crowd. Following them: a man in a black cloak, a face half-obscured by shadows.
The figure raised a blaster. Fired.
Her mother dropped first, clutching her side. Her father turned to shield her, but a second shot dropped him to the duracrete.
And then the killer turned, his face briefly visible in the security cam as he sprinted into an alley. The projection zoomed in on the image, clarifying facial features.
Elia's breath caught.
It was Luthan Devarra.
"That's not—" she stepped closer, blinking. "This—this could be—"
"A forgery?" Aaron asked, his tone soft but razor-sharp. "I expected you'd think that. But the metadata from the feed lines up. Recovered from the market's own security grid—long buried, until we decrypted it last week. You can check it yourself, the codes are embedded."
Elia stared at the image, frozen in a moment of violence.
"Why?" she whispered.
Aaron moved closer, but not threateningly. He kept his voice even. "Because your parents were never loyal to the Black Vow in the way you believed. They tried to help. They knew Devarra was changing. Becoming something darker. They contacted Mon Mothma's intermediaries—fed her intelligence from within the Black Vow. They wanted out."
"Then why didn't they leave?" she asked, her voice strained. "Why stay? Why not take me and run?"
"They were working on it. Mothma had arranged safe passage. The plan was set. But Devarra found out."
Aaron turned the holotable again, this time pulling up intercepted transmissions—audio logs, blurred holograms, reports with encrypted headers.
"Devarra made a deal," Aaron said grimly. "He'd let your parents walk. No executions, no spectacle. In exchange, he was given the MC75 Black Tomb by a sympathetic cell in the Mon Cala fleet. A ship meant for Mothma's faction."
Elia looked at him with disbelief. "So they gave up the ship, and he murdered them anyway?"
He nodded. "That's the nature of the man. He lies, and he kills. The same way he's used you—fed you stories of justice and vengeance. But it's all a front. Slavery, prostitution, civilian massacres—they're all part of his network now."
Aaron tapped the table once more. A new feed popped up. It showed a slave compound, half-exploded, corpses littering the ground—Christophsian civilians included.
"This was three weeks ago," he said. "A Black Vow cell detonated a hospital, the bombing was blamed on the Stormtroopers. As a 'Stormtrooper' testified to the horrors, and of course. If you check his credentials." Aaron told her, tapping the Hologram again. And the credentials of the man appeared. "Imperial Janitor at the time of the explosion, then he was promoted to Stormtrooper 6 days later, and deserted the day after."
Elia's lips parted, her voice hollow. "They wouldn't…"
"They would," Aaron said, stepping beside her. "And they did. This isn't about good versus evil. The Black Vow has become everything it claimed to fight, their task is not limited to killing Imperials, they frame Imperial Forces. To boost recruitment. And your parents tried to stop it. They died trying."
Silence hung between them like a heavy fog. The city outside sparkled, unbothered, indifferent to the shattering of beliefs happening within the tower.
"The Empire is full of flaws, yet the Black Vow is not any better. Help me bring them down, and you shall have a job in the Empire, or freedom. Which of those you choose, is not my problem. Nor is what happens after." Aaron said as he walked back towards his chair, and sat down.
"I know you don't trust me," Aaron said quietly. "And you don't have to. But I trusted you enough to show you this. To give you what your so-called allies would never have."
He gestured to the door, standing up. "I'll leave you the data. Verify it. Decode it. You're smart enough to see the trail yourself."
Elia stood there, her arms limp at her side, staring at the image of her mother lying dead in the market square. The still-frame of Luthan Devarra's fleeing face burned into her mind.
Aaron stopped at the threshold.
"One more thing," he said. "If you decide to stay with them—just remember what they did to the people who loved you the most. And what they'll do to you, if you become inconvenient."
The door hissed shut behind him, leaving her in the cold, quiet room.
The holotable flickered softly. Her parents' final moments replayed once more.
This time, Elia didn't look away.
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