Марта Уэллс - From a Certain Point of View

Veers would be the first to admit that serving aboard the Executor brought unique challenges, but it also brought unparalleled rewards. And for Veers, it brought an honor that could never be eclipsed in this lifetime.

At this moment, Veers was bringing unwelcome news to his master, but that did not trouble him. The amount of…attrition…at both higher and lower levels on the ship was troubling to some, terrifying to others. Fear had been beaten out of Veers quite some time ago, and he had no patience for it. It confounded him that others failed to grasp that the secret to promotion, respect, power, and a long life was very clear:

Don’t fail Vader.

Maximilian Veers never had. Because who would ever want to fail Lord Vader? And who could live with themselves if they did?

Lord Vader’s obsession, one that fueled and frustrated him in equal measure, was obliterating the Rebellion against the Empire. So many had died aboard the Death Star. A terrifying symbol of the power of the Empire, it was the darling of the late Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin. It was where Veers had first met Lord Vader. He had admired them both, but he had privately wondered if the moff might, one day, meet his death at Lord Vader’s hands. The question was moot, as in the end, it was Tarkin’s own overweening arrogance that had doomed him and everyone who had the misfortune to be on the Death Star. In his own mind, Veers felt that Tarkin had failed to give Lord Vader the respect he was due.

Veers himself had served on the Death Star for a time. It had loomed so large, a seemingly invincible construct, both space station and weapon, and yet it had been destroyed by a mere youth—the rebel pilot known as Skywalker. Now the Executor and its commander were on a search to discover, and obliterate, every last rebel, especially the troublesome boy. This was the task of all who served aboard the Executor; their unwavering focus all day, every day, from the moment of waking until the quietness of sleep descended. And even then, the singular duty haunted one’s dreams. All had a part to play.

In Veers’s mind, there were those who led, and those who followed. Sometimes a person was one, sometimes the other. It was important, Veers had learned, to excel in either role.

All powerful beings relied upon the obedience and willing service of others equally remarkable.

So Veers watched and observed. He took great care to align himself with strong leaders, and treated the troops he led with care and support. This mutually beneficial relationship had existed since the dawn of time, and would not go away anytime soon. Not so long as there existed powerful leaders like Lord Vader, and devoted, unfailingly loyal followers like himself.

Earlier, the general had been walking alongside Admiral Kendal Ozzel, both heading to speak with Lord Vader. Ozzel was older than Veers, less spit-and-polish, and softer, physically at least; his mind and strategies were still sound. He was genial, so long as he was agreed with, and like Grand Moff Tarkin quite sure of himself. Captain Firmus Piett, a sharp-featured man with an eye toward rising in the ranks, had called Ozzel over; the younger man thought he had a lead on the rebels’ location.

Ozzel scoffed, Piett insisted…and then, suddenly, Darth Vader was there.

In his career, Veers had met many diplomats, leaders, generals, and royalty. Many were impressive; some intimidating. But no one had a presence like Lord Vader. He was a massive figure swathed in darkness; the very energy around him seeming to change upon his entrance: charged, elevated. And, always, the sound. Rhythmic, constant, it terrified those who were the object of the Dark Lord’s displeasure. Those ill-fated fools knew that sound would likely be the last thing they heard. Veers, however, found it calming. Steady. As unfaltering as Vader was, as he, Maximilian Veers, was. The Dark Lord was many things to Veers, but he was not a threat. Because Veers never failed him.

Vader was certain the rebels were at the site Piett had discovered, and that the most highly desired object of all—Skywalker—was among them.

That should have been the end of it. Veers knew it, Piett knew it…but somehow Ozzel did not. He implied that Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, was wrong. That was a mistake, and it was not Ozzel’s last.

—

Veers came to a precise halt in front of Lord Vader’s meditation chamber and waited.

Veers was perfectly well aware that Darth Vader was not a god. On more than one occasion, while reporting to the Dark Lord when he was in his meditation chamber, Veers had caught a glimpse of Lord Vader donning his helm. There was only a man in there; one who had suffered horribly, whose skin was nothing but angry red scar tissue. He had bled, had burned; had felt agonizing pain. And he had endured. Veers did not know the man Darth Vader had been, before the helm and armor and glowing red lightsaber, but it did not matter to him. Darth Vader was who had been born from that unimaginable suffering. He was no stranger to violence or malice. And all Lord Vader demanded of those who served was respect, obedience, and success.

It was so simple. And it was because of that simplicity that Veers had never failed him.

There was the pneumatic hiss of the chamber, looking like the jaws of a sleek, black beast with an almost too-bright, white interior.

“What is it, General?” The deep, rich voice, smooth and calm save when it was even deeper with rage. Such a tone had never been directed toward Veers.

Veers used no extraneous words, nor did he fail to provide the particulars his lord needed to know. He informed Vader that the Executor had dropped out of lightspeed and that com-scan had detected an energy field on the sixth planet of the Hoth system; one powerful enough to deflect even the Executor ’s bombardment.

“The rebels have detected our presence,” Vader said, calmly, as if he were musing about trivialities. Veers knew what was coming. “Admiral Ozzel came out of lightspeed too close to the system.”

And there it was. Ozzel’s loyalty had never been questioned, but the man suffered from the same malady Grand Moff Tarkin had—arrogance. Veers suspected that, like Tarkin, Ozzel would find the disease fatal. Even so, Veers felt moved to attempt to explain the admiral’s decision. “He-he felt surprise was wiser—”

“He is as clumsy as he is stupid,” Vader said, annoyance creeping into the booming voice. Veers’s heartbeat remained steady. The anger was not for him. “General…prepare your troops for a surface attack.”

“Yes, my lord,” Veers replied, bowing his head, then turning smartly on his heel.

He slowed as he approached the door, though. He knew what was about to unfold. But despite his flaws, Admiral Kendal Ozzel deserved to be witnessed here, at the last, by at least one who respected him.

—

While Veers rarely displayed emotions, he certainly possessed them. He was a human, not a droid, and he cared deeply about winning battles for his lord, the soldiers under his command, and the technology that all their lives relied upon. He had a special fondness for the All Terrain Armored Transport, or AT-AT, as it was nicknamed. AT-ATs weren’t swift or flashy. They were steady, slow, and got the job done. Veers had spent so many hours in them that the languid, rhythmic movements of the transport, akin to riding a great beast, felt as normal to him as walking. Nothing had stronger armor than an AT-AT, and often the mere sight of one of the behemoths striding toward ground fighters was enough to psychologically rattle them without a shot being fired.

The unit Veers commanded was Blizzard Force, so named because the AT-ATs were specifically designed to function well in cold-weather operations. Veers had personally selected each and every soldier who served in this unit. His AT-AT was, of course, Blizzard One. He did not believe in sentimental nicknames, although he often oversaw repairs, and everything inside was to his exact specifications. Forty armed and armored troops were ensconced within the transport’s belly, and stationed along with Veers in the front-facing command center were TK-5187 and TK-7834, the finest gunner and pilot Veers could find.