"What about the others?" Karsant gasped, looking back at where he had last seen Sergeant Torval. The old veteran was still fighting, his rifle firing in controlled bursts even as droids surrounded his position.
"They're gone," the Jedi said grimly. "If you stay, you die too. Now move!"
She deflected incoming blaster fire, her lightsaber sending bolts ricocheting back toward their sources. Karsant followed her, his legs moving on instinct even as his mind struggled to process what was happening. This was the worse situation he had been in since joining.
They reached the secondary trench line where other survivors had gathered. An officer, wearing a scorched and torn uniform, was trying to organize a defensive formation. "All units, hold this line! We need to buy time for the civilians to evacuate!"
But even as he spoke, artillery rounds began falling on their position. The officer disappeared in an explosion that left nothing but a crater where he'd been standing.
The Jedi pushed Karsant down as shrapnel flew overhead. "This position is lost," she said into her comm. "All Jedi, begin full evacuation protocols. Get as many soldiers out as you can."
"What about winning?" Karsant asked. "What about defending the Republic?"
She looked at him with eyes that had seen too much death. "Some battles can't be won, soldier. Sometimes survival is victory enough."
In orbit above Thyferra, the last Republic capital ship exploded, its reactor core bursting into a bright flash. The Imperial fleet had achieved complete space superiority in less than three hours.
Ground Commander Vex, an Ascendant leading the Thyferra invasion, watched from his command ship as the Republic defenses crumbled. The battle was proceeding exactly as projected. Minimal Imperial casualties and maximum enemy disruption with complete orbital control achieved ahead of schedule.
"Sir, we're detecting evacuation shuttles launching from the capital," his tactical officer reported. "Should we intercept?"
Vex shook his head. Standard doctrine would be to destroy fleeing military forces, but the Emperor's recent directives had emphasized reducing unnecessary casualties where possible. Broken soldiers fleeing the battlefield weren't a threat and they would help out the Imperium in the long run.
"Let them go," he ordered. "Focus fire on military installations and defensive positions only. Any civilian transports are to be ignored unless they're confirmed to be carrying military assets."
"Understood, sir."
The ground assault continued for another six days before organized resistance ceased entirely. Thyferra's garrison commander formally surrendered what remained of his forces, approximately three hundred thousand soldiers out of the original two million that had been stationed on the world.
Karsant found himself among the prisoners, sitting in a processing center that had been set up in one of the city's larger warehouses. Imperial soldiers moved through the rows of captured Republic troops, scanning identification chips and cataloging prisoners.
He expected to be executed. Everyone did. The Republic propaganda had been clear about what happened to prisoners of war captured by the Imperium. Mass executions, torture, or enslavement. But as he watched the Imperial soldiers' work, he noticed something strange. They were professional, almost clinical in their processing. No beatings, no mockery, no cruelty.
An Imperial officer approached his section, flanked by two war droids. "Republic soldiers, you are now prisoners of war under Imperial military authority. You will be transported to detention facilities where you will remain until the conclusion of hostilities. You will be provided with food, water, medical care, and shelter in accordance with Imperial military protocols. Any attempt to escape or resist will result in immediate execution. Do you understand?"
Murmur's of acknowledgment spread throughout the prisoners. What else were they gonna say? That they didn't understand.
"Good. Medical personnel will now conduct examinations. Anyone requiring immediate treatment will be processed first."
Karsant looked around at his fellow prisoners, seeing the same confusion he felt. This wasn't what they'd been told to expect. Where were the torture chambers? The firing squads? The forced labor camps?
A medical droid approached him, its sensors scanning his body. "Subject has three fractured ribs and minor internal bruising. Recommend immediate treatment and forty-eight hours rest."
"Can you walk?" an Imperial medic asked, her voice neutral despite the two sides being at war with each other.
"Yes," Karsant managed.
"Then follow the blue line to medical processing. You'll be treated and assigned quarters."
As he walked through the facility, Karsant passed other prisoners receiving similar treatment. Wounded soldiers were being carried on stretchers to proper medical bays. Others were being given ration packs and water.
It didn't make sense. Everything he'd been told about the Imperium painted them as monsters, yet here they were treating prisoners better than the Republic sometimes treated its own soldiers.
"First time seeing Imperial hospitality?" a voice asked beside him. Karsant turned to see an older prisoner, a sergeant by his rank insignia, limping along the same blue line.
"I don't understand," Karsant admitted. "Why aren't they just killing us?"
The sergeant laughed. "Because dead prisoners don't spread stories, kid. Think about it. We go back to Republic space eventually, either through prisoner exchange or when the war ends. What are we going to tell people? That the Imperium executed us? Or that they treated us better than our own commanders did?"
Karsant's eyes widened as he finally saw the full picture of what the Imperium was doing. It was psychological warfare on a scale he hadn't considered. Every prisoner they treated well became a potential voice against continuing the war.
"It's brilliant, really," the sergeant continued. "Half the Republic's war effort depends on convincing people that the Imperium is worse than whatever suffering the war causes. Hard to maintain that narrative when prisoners come home talking about how well they were treated."
They reached the medical bay where Imperial doctors were already working on dozens of wounded prisoners. Karsant was directed to a bed where a human doctor examined his ribs.
"You're lucky," the doctor said, running a scanner over his chest. "Nothing that bacta won't fix. You'll be back to full health in a week."
"Why are you helping us?" Karsant asked, curious to hear the answer from the Imperial side.
The doctor paused, considering the question. "Because you're soldiers who followed orders, just like I am. This war isn't your fault any more than it is mine. The Emperor believes in holding leaders accountable, not punishing every soldier who fought for the wrong side."
"But we invaded your territory. We killed Imperial soldiers." Karsant was conflicted. Everything he had learned about the Imperium appeared to be false.
"And Imperial soldiers killed Republican soldiers. That's what war is." The doctor applied a bacta patch to Karsant's ribs. "But the war will end eventually. When it does, the Emperor wants a galaxy that can heal, not one drowning in vengeance and hatred. That starts with how we treat each other now."
Karsant laid back on the bed, his mind dazed from what he had just heard. Everything he thought he knew about this conflict seemed to be wrong. The Imperium wasn't supposed to be reasonable, at least that's what he was told. They also weren't supposed to have principles or show mercy.
Across the galaxy on Coruscant, Chancellor Thrace stood in his office, staring at the holographic display showing Imperial advances across dozens of worlds. Red markers indicated fallen Republic systems, and there were far too many of them.
"Thyferra has fallen," his military advisor reported. "Brentaal IV will fall within the week. Once that happens, there's nothing between the Imperial fleet and Coruscant except our home defense fleet."
"Then we reinforce the home fleet," Thrace responded. "Pull ships from every sector if you have to. I will not allow the Imperium to threaten our capital."
"Chancellor, if we pull more ships from the outer territories, we'll lose them entirely. The defense grid is already stretched beyond sustainable limits. We've lost over 400 billion lives, and recruitment numbers are already declining every month. Several planets and their senators are already starting to demand an end to this war."
"The public will get what I tell them to get!" Thrace slammed his fist on the desk. "We cannot show weakness now. If we negotiate from a position of defeat, the Imperium will dictate terms that destroy everything the Republic stands for."
"With respect, Chancellor, what does the Republic stand for anymore?" The advisor asked in a voice that was almost insubordination. "We allied with the Sith Empire in secret. We've conscripted entire planetary populations. Our economy is collapsing under the weight of military spending. At what point does preserving the Republic become destroying it?"
Thrace's eyes narrowed listening to his advisor spew nonsense. "Are you questioning my leadership?"
"I'm questioning whether we have any leadership left to follow," the advisor replied. "Half the Senate wants your head. The Jedi Order has fractured over this war. Worlds are beginning to refuse conscription orders. Chancellor, we're losing not just militarily, but politically and morally."
"Get out," Thrace said. "And send in Admiral Varn. If you won't help me win this war, I'll find someone who will."
The advisor left without another word. Thrace returned his attention to the holographic display, watching the red markers spread like a disease across Republic space. He had staked everything on this war, convinced that the Republic's superior numbers and industrial base would eventually overwhelm the Imperium.
But he had been wrong.
Yet he couldn't admit that. To admit defeat now would mean trials, imprisonment, possibly execution. The militarist faction had enemies throughout the Senate who would use any weakness to destroy them. No, the only path forward was to fight until either victory was achieved or until circumstances forced a different solution.
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A/N: I've read all of the reader created characters and all of them look good and can fit in the story. Don't expect to see them soon as they will be spread out throughout the story, but every character that was put in the comments will at some point make their appearance.
And if you haven't yet you can still make your own character as the story progresses. There will also be another chance once we reach the Anakin era of the galaxy to create your own characters as the galaxy will be vastly different yet also the same but in a way that doesn't mess up the story.