Recollections of an Imperial Officer...

LT Lasidious von Feldure, GCO - [IABG] [DIS3] [LOC2] [DB1] [5IFV] ...A journal of the best damned job in the Galaxy. Foreword The following transcript is the personal recollections of "Imperial service" by Lasidious von Feldure, officer of the Imperial Navy. "You are in the midst of a conquest of which the effects upon the civilization and commerce of the Galaxy are incalculable. Each planet you meet will be relinquished of evil, fulfilled with prosperity and the usurpers of progress be punished for their weakness. The wisest, the most enlightened and the most virtuous will govern, and the people will be happy. But woe betide those who take up arms in favour of corruption and fight against us! There will be no hope for them; they will perish! We will teach them that it is easier to defy and to threaten us, than to defeat us!" — Extract from LT Feldure's speech to the 5th Assault Group as the newly made Commanding Officer; Year 12 Day 167. Chapter I - "Fealty, Fidelity, and Service." There are certain days you will never forget, and for me one date will always remain; Day 357 of the 10th year, or in the Coruscanti calendar; Katunda, Welona 32nd. For that was the day I graduated from the Imperial Academy at Coruscant City, the day I became truly an Imperial. Around ten months previous I had been a mere son of a dying stately family whom had found it's wealth and title during the reign of the Galactic Republic and latterly held onto the skirt tails of the New Republic with a dwindling and desperately false relationship. My father, the 7th Lord Feldure, had made clear his intentions to parlé with the Rebels from the onset of the Galactic War, offering discounted resources and use of family land. My early recollections as a child was that of endless dinner parties and balls full of Rebel officers, officials and other degenerates from the rebellion. This close relationship continued for many years until eventually the Feldure financial pot had begun to run dry and, as the lands were ripped of their remaining material sources, the relationship finally came to a closure. But the aristocratic founding I had on Dantooine offered me the education tools that would I would later reply upon within the Empire, it had offered me a glimpse into galactic trade and commerce and had given me a closer look at the rebellion devil. As the friendship between the rebellion had become cold, I had come of age and Feldure family tradition was for one son to be in military service and one to shadow the the father and manage the family estate and companies thereof. My elder brother Kal lacked the courage and abilities to face the dangers of military action and regarded the military profession with the opinions that come only from a coward's point of view. So it was I, with great delight, who would become a soldier. My farther's own delight was soon turned to shame, for he the lifelong fool and puppet, saw the Galactic Empire as a villainous burden on the galaxy. But I was not so blinded as he and saw the true vision of the present and future. By mid year 9 I had made my way to Corellia and the Imperial Recruitment Centre on the planet's capital city. My homeworld of Dantooine didn't have any Imperial Recruiting stations forcing me to make a two week journey to the system. The centre itself was flanked by 10 or maybe 15 Imperial Stormtroopers whom greeted each entrant to the facility cheerfully, shaking hands, handing out flyers and one even jested that with my strong physic I was born for the Imperial Army. It wasn't long before I had put pen to paper and was immediately ushered deeper into the facility to a landing bay where I was issued a number, 1100494, a meal, and told to wait for the arrival of the shuttle that would take me to Coruscant. Our arrival at the Academy was swiftly greeted by a junior Army Officer, who's name now eludes me, he was flanked by a group of other Officers that were, unlike him, in white uniforms. I would later realise these men, whom made various notes on data-pads and divided the Recruits up into different groups, to be ISB Officials. The Army Officer offered a short speech to me and my fellow Recruits on "Fealty, Fidelity, and Service", the Academy's maxim. "...You have arrived on this landing pad as weak sentients of the Galaxy, but you will enter that building as Imperials; pillars for hope and freedom and the bastions of progress and stability". My group was escorted through the main courtyard to a store house to be issued with the equipment and clothing we'd need for the training ahead. The Quartermaster was an elderly Command Flight Officer, whom had clearly spent the entirety of his life in the enlisted service of the Imperial Navy, a service which had seen him issued with a new cybernetic arm and leg to replace those which had clearly been lost in some past battle in some far off corner of the galaxy. His chest was stroon with the ribbons and awards that marked the various stages and achievements in his career. "This!", he exclaimed, "Will be the last uniform you will ever wear!!" In hindsight I'm glad it wasn't, the Academy uniform was twice as ill-fitting as the Enlisted uniform and the Enlisted uniform's stitching was not nearly as well tailored as the Naval Officer's. But otherwise I'll leave him be with his just metaphor and sentiment. I had not used my real name to enlist, a common ploy by criminals and other scoundrels wishing to avoid the law, but for me though the action was for a different reason. I wished to remove myself from my hereditary peerage and Republican founding. From that moment my founding and future was to be solely in servitude to the Galactic Empire. And so I entered the Imperial Academy gates as Recruit Von Pook, Imperial. Academy training was vigorous yet swift. Access to Imperial history had been something that was contraband where I grew up and despite the fact that I had managed to have some datacards smuggled into my possession there was a lot I still needed to know, information that my counterparts from Imperial worlds knew well. I devoured books, learnt the ancient galactic campaigns, embraced the Imperial mindset and soon became the talk of the class. Military statigum had been my passion from a child, even as an infant I had formed battles from miniature models of Clone Troopers of the Republic whom always came out victorious against their terrifying obstacle of that particular day, whether it be a mass droid army or hideous alien invaders. My knowledge of Galactic history was noted by my tutors and my ponshant for military tactics was envied by my fellow students. I was conscious of my growing powers and I admit I enjoyed my superiority. On day 106 of year 10, Brall, a Recruit, committed suicide because of a love affair; he was, however, a good soldier. That was the second and last incident of this nature I heard of whilst at the Academy. I confided to a friend that a soldier must overcome grief and the melancholy of love; that there is as much courage in supporting with firmness the afflictions of the soul as there is in standing steady under the blasts of a battery of guns. To give one's self up to grief without resistance, to kill one's self to escape it, is to abandon the battlefield defeated and as a coward. Death had never been a fear of mine, but the thought of death forcing me to commit to a failure did more than anything. On the third month at the academy that I received the news that my father, the sole financial support of my youth, had died, killed in a local worker uprising. The galaxy had lost a rebellious old fool and my dull witted, cowardly brother had gained the family estate. From that day I found myself dedicated beyond duty to the Empire, determined not to have such a pointless and naive life as his father and brother. "And now I am here, between stars, dreaming, and dissolving my melancholy in the full vent of Imperial service. To where will it take me today? Again to the verge of death? Still at the dawn of life, I must hope for many more days to come. It now feels a lifetime since I last saw my family, a parting that filled me with nothing but the greatest of joy. That was a time when I feared death, but now I do not, now I fear a life of failure. So what then drives me to not fear self-destruction? It is not through despair and a will to give-up because I'm lost in endless thoughts of the sufferings of life, no it is not, it is simple; death is inevitable, beyond our jurisdiction, so why not commit one's end to that of a greater cause? One that will live on when you are dust, and that is one reason why I will always serve the greatest of the Galaxy's causes, that of the Galactic Empire! I often wonder what spectacles await me when I return home, one spectacle of-course will be that of my family who will swiftly find themselves on their knees, laden with chains and kissing in fear the hand that strikes them!" — From my personal log as a FCPL. As time has passed I have begun to feel the elements of sympathy for my family and those pawns who follow blindly such weak and often corrupt ideals. But the victorious and the destined can not offer time for such weaknesses of sympathy, I now banish such thoughts and commit to only strength, Imperial strength, the strength that will carry us to victory and stability. Weakness is the disease on our society and to entertain it or to sympathise with it is to let the disease infect you. On Day 357 of the 10th year there was an atmosphere in the air that I have rarely, if ever experienced the like of since. An air of victory, of the beginning of something spectacular, as though we, whom stood on the Academy's graduation stage, were walking to a new era, the greatest era, an era that we few were destined to fulfil the requirements of, the requirements of supreme victory and bestow eternal homage onto the heroes of the past. It was only at the moment that the rank bar of a Cadet was pinned onto my chest that I knew the victory was to be ultimately mine. I had learnt to be honourable, loyal, resolute and except only victory. I had become, from that moment, an Imperial.