“There are a number of ways that you can engage your foe in any vessel dedicated to combat,” said Beade, standing a foot or two from the holovid and pointing at the globe of green light.
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Over the next few weeks, Dav and the others learned more than they thought they ever could about ship-to-ship combat.
Attack head on, face-to-face? Fifty-fifty chance of death, even against an inexperienced pilot.
Attack from behind, at a forty-five degree angle? Less noble, but a greater chance of success.
Use a better TIE pilot as bait, get an enemy fighter to break from the group and give chase, then wipe it out from behind? Unsavory, but this was war.
Later, in a different classroom, Dav had figured out from the moment they’d set foot from the shuttle onto the deck of the outdated Star Destroyer that acted as their school that the goal of many of the instructors was to keep them unbalanced and under-confident. Cadets who were sure of themselves and their abilities would be harder to control, after all. Dav had seen it in school, from history class to a sportsmaster’s arena: The first thing a successful teacher did was to show his young charges just how much more able he was than they were.
And their current instructor, Captain Ozzel, was no exception.
“There is a reason you are not training on a planetary academy, as I did, on Coruscant,” he began. “Too often, a cadet might attain feelings for the world he or she is trained upon. Duty to the Emperor is, of course, paramount in the life of any member of the empire. But this is especially so for those of us privileged to serve in the Emperor’s Navy.
“Are there any restrictions on what we can and cannot do as pilots in the Navy?” said a voice from the back of the classroom. Dav turned to look- it was Gaab again, the cadet with the ponytail. He was a tall, thin fellow from some world no one had heard of and everyone forgot about as soon as Gaab mentioned it.
“Well, being a traitor is, of course, highly discouraged,” Ozzel said, pausing while the cadets nearest to him gave a few obligatory chuckles. “But on a serious note, Cadet, you have anticipated the lecture I’ll be giving today. It is true that most enlightened citizens consider the ideals of the Republic today to be, at best, a good set of suggestions to be followed. And even then only followed under ideal circumstances. You are all too young to recall the period before the Clone Wars, when the Republic’s most sternly kept article of war was rule number two-thirty-four.
“Two hundred and thirty four?” said Gaab, “how many are there? And do we have to memorize them all?”
“At one point, you would have been expected to, yes,” said Ozzel, enjoying the moment and walking with his hands behind his back. “The Republic had very strict protocols regarding under what conditions a war could be declared, and even stricter ones under how it could be fought.”
“Rules for war?” said Norrin. “That sounds like a contradiction.”
Ozzel smiled. He was willing to let cadets speak out if they kept the room civilized, and above all, quiet when Captain Ozzel wished to speak. “It seems quaint now, yes. The Republic has...grown, or more accurately outgrown antiquated ideas such as fighting a just war, or a war fought with moral principles. However, they are worth noting for their historical, cultural value if nothing else. For example: Rule 229 stated that a war could only be declared and fought defensively, and declaring war purely for expansionist ambition or economic gain was not permissible. Rule 230 said that the reasons for going to war must include damage that is grave, lasting and certain. It would be wrong to waste a hundred troopers over an insult suffered by an admiral at a game of cards, for example. Rule 231 states that there must be a chance of winning; back in the days of the Republic, it would have been considered immoral to send troops to fight in a conflict where they would only be eliminated without the chance for victory. Rule 232 States that the war must be declared by the proper authorities, and Rule 233 states that the declaration of war must be a last resort, after all other means have been exhausted. Are there any questions thus far?”
No hands raised, no voices spoke.
“Excellent,” said Ozzel. “Now, since the Clone Wars, we’ve moved beyond the narrow understandings that these rules used to be administered with. Since the advent of the Empire, we’ve grown to understand that a war can and ought to be fought for any reason determined to be in the Empire’s best interests. Having the Emperor alone decide those best interests is the most efficient way to run an empire spanning a galaxy.
“The Clone Wars also outdated the ideals of war held in the Republican era. Having a plentiful resource of cheap, expendable soldiers through cloning technology effectively nullified Rules 230 and 231, since having much of a product necessarily drops the value of that product. It is only wrong to waste a stormtrooper or a clone trooper in a lost or frivolous cause if the supply of those soldiers is limited. Happily, that is not now the case, thank to our recent recruiting drive.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“Rule 232 is, of course, still in place, as only the rightful authority, the Emperor, can declare war on a system or rival government. This also illustrates why the current feeble attempts at rebellion against the Empire are ultimately immoral as well as ineffective, since they are setting themselves in opposition to the rightful authority established in our galaxy by the will of the people and the strength of the Emperor himself. And rule 233 is moot, as we now understand the Emperor to be the ultimate galactic authority, any reason he deems sufficient for military action is sufficient in and of itself, whether it is first, last, or every resort. Is that clear?”
No one spoke. It was clear.
To everyone except...
“A thought, Captain Ozzel?” Dav said, raising his hand.
“Yes...Eccles. From Coruscant, correct? What can I do for you?”
“Well, you said we’ve grown out of those rules. I wonder, though: I’d hate to be someone used for a frivolous cause. I’d argue that a life has worth, apart from what it costs to train us. I mean, if you were ordered to jump into a volcano, you might hesitate unless you knew it was for a good reason, wouldn’t you?”
Ozzel looked confused. “Well...perhaps...but, there is no way the Emperor would order me to do such a thing, so why bring it up?”
Gaab raised his hand from the back of the room. “Moreover,” he said once he’d been called on, “you said that the Emperor is the authority in the galaxy. Where does he get that authority from? You get your authority from him, and we all understand that. And we know the story about him saving us from the Jedi. But why is he Emperor? Why does he get to run the military, the senate, and everything else? Hasn’t the danger of the Jedi passed away?”
Ozzel’s eyes narrowed. Gaab’s voice was quite sincere, without any mocking tone.
“The Emperor derives his authority by virtue of his strength, wisdom and ability, Cadet, and you’d do well to recall that. Now,” Ozzel said, turning to face the class at large, “The last lesson of the day will be the final rule of engagement from the Republic, one that we still hold true to in this day and age as civilized members of the Empire: Rule Two-Thirty-Four.
“Rule two-hundred thirty-four, cadets, states that innocent members of other populations may not be made the primary targets of destructive actions. Thus, if I have a bomb in my hand, and wish to attack an enemy with it, I may not use the bomb to target a civilian in order to draw that enemy out of his hiding area. The only targets permitted are military targets. Yes, young Gaab.”
“But what if there are civilians groups around a factory making blasters for the enemy?”
“Excellent question, Gaab. Avoid the wrong questions in the future, and you might have a future in strategy as well as piloting. The answer is relatively simple: We may target the factory. If civilians die, it will be regrettable but permissible. What we cannot and must not do is deliberately target the civilians themselves. Moral issues aside, it can be quite impractical if we destroy a civilian target and thus make enemies of the Empire out of every relative of the victims.”
“But then,” said Norrin, “what if targeting civilians sets an example?”
The room fell silent.
“I mean,” Norrin said, “if you have rebels, like we do now, in my system? And they kill a trooper? You might not have time to figure out which folks in the town are helping the rebels. So, just shoot ten civvies for every trooper killed. Wouldn’t that be permissible? It’d get the point across, and the locals wouldn’t be helping the rebels anytime soon.”
The room was silent. “You actually have to ask that question, Mek?” Dav said to Norrin.
“Yes!” Norrin said. “Do you have a problem with someone asking questions?”
“There’s questions like ‘why does it fly?’ and ‘is there a Maker?,’ Mek,” Jada said pointedly. “You’re asking something that should be so basic to your makeup that if it’s not there, you’re missing parts of you that other people take for granted. Would you shoot a kid five cycles old to make a point?”
“Would you, Sanddancer, if you knew it would save your brother’s life?”
“No. He wouldn’t want me to. And I wouldn’t want him to do that for me, either.”
The tension in the room grew very thick, until Norrin Mek smiled. “I wouldn’t do it either, if you were my sister.”
The room erupted in laughter. Jada leaned over in her chair and gave Norrin an ungentle punch in the ribs.
“If I may interrupt the level this conversation is sinking to,” Captain Ozzel said, “you have work to do on your own this evening. You each have in your data mail a moral question that our military soldiers have faced at one point or another. I want you to answer it both with the rigid way of thinking espoused by the older, dogmatic tenets of the Republic, and by the light of our new understandings of the role of the military in maintaining the Empire, and the role and authority of the Emperor himself. Class!” Ozzel finished his speech with a barked command for attention. Thirty cadets sat at attention, their backs rigid, eyes to the front, their arms straight down to balled fists at their sides.
“Dismissed!”
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TO BE CONTINUED....