*Author Note: I messed up the Posting by mistake. Please read this before the Interlude otherwise it wont make sense. My Bad.
(EMBER POV)
The metallic taste of blood coated my mouth as I pressed myself against the railing, the broken bone in my pinkie finger sending sharp spikes of agony up my arm with each heartbeat. Through my Force sight, I could see the chaos unfolding throughout the stairwell energy bolts crisscrossing the vertical shaft like deadly lightning while contestants moved with purpose on every level. The sound was overwhelming: the crack of blaster fire, the hum of vibrating blades, and the constant clatter of boots on durasteel as combatants maneuvered for advantage.
Fifty signatures blazed in my enhanced perception, scattered throughout the stairwell's multiple levels. Some were engaged in close-quarters combat, their energy patterns flaring with the intensity of beings fighting for their lives. Others had found defensive positions behind structural supports or maintenance alcoves, using cover while they picked off exposed targets. The tactical situation was pure chaos a three-dimensional battlefield where threats could emerge from any direction.
I reached into one of my cargo pockets, my fingers finding the familiar weight of a roll of military-grade tape I'd tucked away during my equipment check. The adhesive strip was designed for emergency field repairs, strong enough to seal hull breaches or secure broken gear under combat conditions. My hands shook slightly as I unrolled several inches of the gray material, the pain from my broken finger making fine motor control difficult.
Gritting my teeth against the throbbing in my right hand, I jingled my left wrist sharply and banged it against the railing's metal surface, the impact triggered the release mechanism built into my vambrace, and I felt the combat knife from before slide smoothly from its concealed sheath into my palm.
As I transferred the knife to my broken right hand, a sharp squeak of pain escaped my lips. The movement caused the fractured bone in my pinkie to shift, sending a lightning bolt of agony through my nervous system that made my vision blur momentarily.
Working quickly despite the pain, I began wrapping the tape around my right hand and the knife's handle. The adhesive strip wound between my fingers and around my palm, binding the weapon so securely to my hand that releasing it would be impossible without cutting the tape away. It was crude field medicine, but even if my grip failed due to pain or injury, the blade would remain available for use.
As I finished securing the knife, my Force sight tracked new movement converging on my position. Three contestants on different levels had apparently decided I was an easy target, isolated and wounded behind inadequate cover. Their energy signatures blazed with predatory focus as they began maneuvering toward my location, weapons ready.
"Shit" I muttered, realizing my recovery time was over, Time to move.
Using my left hand, I holstered both pistols. The slug thrower slid smoothly into its position at the small of my back, while the blaster required slightly more awkward maneuvering to secure it properly in the front holster. The energy weapon's unusual grip angle made one-handed holstering challenging, but I managed to get it seated correctly after a moment of fumbling.
I swung my rifle from its position across my back, the weapon's familiar weight settling into my left hand as I shifted my shooting stance. My right hand, despite the taped knife and broken finger, could still provide support and stability for the weapon's barrel. The setup was far from ideal but it was functional enough for what I needed to accomplish.
Taking a deep breath to center myself, I pushed off from the railing and began my descent.
The first target presented itself immediately a human male positioned behind cover on the opposite side of the stairwell, approximately fifteen meters below my current position. He was focused on engaging another contestant to his right, leaving his flank exposed to my elevated angle. I lined up the shot while still moving, my left shoulder absorbing the rifle's recoil as the energy bolt crossed the distance and struck him center mass.
The impact sent him tumbling over the railing shield pulsing on, his weapon clattering away as his energy signature fell. One down, forty-nine to go.
But my muzzle flash had given away my position, and return fire erupted from multiple directions. Energy bolts seared through the air around me as I continued my rapid descent, their passage close enough that I could feel the heat against my skin. I jinked left and right as much as the stairwell's confines allowed, using the structural supports and railings for momentary cover while maintaining my downward momentum.
A bolt caught me in the left shoulder, spinning me slightly as the weapon's energy discharge cooked the local area the sensation was like being struck by lightning. I bit back a cry and kept moving, knowing that stopping meant becoming an easier target. Another shot grazed my right thigh, the energy bolt burning through fabric and skin with surgical precision. This time I couldn't suppress a grunt of pain, but my legs continued to function despite the injury.
I reached the next landing just as another contestant a Zabrak female roughly my age emerged from behind a structural pillar with a vibroblade humming in her hands. She moved with the fluid grace of someone trained in edged weapon combat, her stance balanced and ready for close-quarters engagement. Ritual tattoos covered her arms in intricate patterns that seemed to shift in the stairwell's flickering light, and her yellow eyes tracked my movement with predatory focus.
Timed just right I slammed into her at full speed, using my momentum and body weight to disrupt her prepared stance. The impact sent us both stumbling backward, our weapons clashing as we struggled for position.
But as we collided, something unexpected flickered across my vision a translucent overlay in the upper right corner of my visual field, a small progress bar appeared with text that made my blood run cold:
[HACK DETECTED. WEAPON GLITCH AT 57%]
The realization made me feel like my heart skipped a beat. The slicers were back in the game, their malicious code worming through the tower's network systems and targeting weapons. Someone was actively trying to sabotage my rifle through cyberspace warfare, and I was powerless to stop them while engaged in close-quarters combat.
The Zabrak recovered quickly, her reflexes allowing her to regain balance while bringing her vibroblade up in a deadly arc toward my torso. I deflected the strike with my rifle's barrel, the energy blade leaving a shallow score in the weapon's durasteel housing. The near-miss was close enough that I could feel the blade's energy field against my ribs through my clothing.
[WEAPON GLITCH AT 71%]
The progress bar continued its relentless advance while I fought for my life. I countered with the knife taped to my right hand, driving it toward her midsection in a straight thrust. She twisted away from the attack, but not quickly enough to avoid the blade entirely the edge parted fabric and skin along her left side, drawing blood but failing to cause serious injury.
She retaliated with a horizontal slash that forced me to lean backward dramatically, the vibroblade's humming edge passing centimeters from my face. As I straightened from the evasive movement, I brought the rifle's butt up in a rising strike aimed at her chin. The blow connected with her jaw, snapping her head back and disrupting her next attack sequence.
[WEAPON GLITCH AT 84%]
The Zabrak pressed her attack with renewed fury, clearly recognizing that I was distracted by something she couldn't see. Her vibroblade came around in a tight arc that I barely managed to intercept with my taped blade, sparks flying as the two weapons ground against each other. The impact sent vibrations through the knife's handle and into my broken finger, causing my eyes to water with pain.
She followed up with a knee strike aimed at my ribs, forcing me to twist away while maintaining weapon contact. As I pivoted, she managed to slice across my left forearm with the vibroblade's edge, the energy field parting my armor's outer layer and scoring the flesh beneath. The wound wasn't deep, but it burned like acid and left a thin line of cauterized skin that immediately began to sting.
I retaliated by using the rifle like a quarterstaff, driving the weapon's muzzle toward her solar plexus while keeping the stock positioned to block her return strikes. The technique was unorthodox but effective the rifle's length gave me reach advantage while the solid construction would be solid enough to block any strikes that got close.
[WEAPON GLITCH AT 92%]
The close-quarters combat was complicated by the ongoing firefight around us. Energy bolts from other contestants occasionally seared past our position, forcing both of us to duck or dodge while maintaining our engagement. At one point, a energy bolt intended for another target struck the wall behind the woman showering us both with fragments of superheated durasteel.
She used the distraction to launch a vicious combination a feint toward my head followed by a low thrust aimed at my thigh. I managed to deflect the first strike but caught the second blade across my right leg, the attack slicing through armor and into muscle. The pain was immediate and intense, but adrenaline kept me functional despite the injury.
I spun away from her follow-up attack and managed to create enough space to bring my rifle into firing position. The weapon's scope lined up with her center mass, and I could see the surprise in her yellow eyes as she realized she was about to be eliminated at point-blank range.
[WEAPON GLITCH AT 99%]
I squeezed the trigger.
Nothing happened.
[WEAPON GLITCH COMPLETE. SYSTEM COMPROMISED.]
The rifle remained completely silent in my hands, its targeting systems dead and its energy cells flickering apparently drained by whatever malicious code had infiltrated its operating system. I stared at the weapon in growing panic, my mind struggling to process the fact that my primary firearm had just been turned into an expensive club by some unseen slicer.
She stared at me in equal surprise, clearly not expecting my weapon to malfunction. For a brief instant, we both stood frozen me holding a useless rifle, her with her vibroblade half-raised for a defensive parry that was no longer necessary.
The moment of mutual shock lasted perhaps two seconds before my training reasserted itself. If the rifle wouldn't fire, it could still serve as a projectile. I grabbed the weapon's sling with my left hand and began spinning it around my body like a primitive weapon, building momentum before releasing it directly at the Zabrak's position.
The Rifle struck her in the shoulder with enough force to knock her backward, disrupting her stance and causing her to stumble toward the stairwell's railing. The rifle clattered away across the landing, its expensive sights probably damaged beyond repair by the impact. But instead of falling or retreating, the Zabrak used her momentum to her advantage.
She rolled with the impact and came up charging, her yellow eyes blazing with fury and determination. Before I could draw either of my sidearms, she slammed into me with her full body weight, driving me backward across the narrow landing. My back struck the durasteel floor hard enough to drive the air from my lungs, and suddenly she was on top of me, straddling my torso while trying to pin my arms.
"You little bitch!" she snarled, bringing her vibroblade down in a vicious arc toward my face.
I managed to get my left arm up just in time, the energy blade slicing through my armor's sleeve and scoring the flesh beneath. The cauterized wound burned like molten metal, but it was better than having my throat cut. I bucked upward with my hips, trying to throw her off balance, but she adjusted her position and maintained control.
She followed up with another strike, this one aimed at my right shoulder. I twisted away from the blade's path, but couldn't avoid it entirely. The edge carved a shallow line across my upper arm, parting everything in its way in a neat cauterized cut that immediately began to throb with intense heat.
The knife taped to my broken right hand was my only available weapon, but from this position I couldn't generate enough leverage for an effective strike. I managed to slash at her thigh, drawing blood but failing to cause significant damage. She hissed in pain but didn't release her grip.
Her blade came down again, this time in a precise thrust aimed at my left shoulder. I rolled my head to the side and managed to intercept the strike with my forearm, but the blade still managed to slice across my cheek. The energy field left a burning line from my jawbone to just below my eye, and I could feel warm blood beginning to trickle down my face.
"Stay still and this will be over quickly" she growled, raising the vibroblade for what would likely be a killing blow.
But I wasn't finished yet. Using every ounce of strength I could muster, I bucked upward with explosive force, driving my hips and legs into the movement. The sudden motion caught her off guard, throwing her forward and causing her to strike her forehead against the metal railing with a sharp crack.
Her eyes went wide with shock and pain, her grip on the vibroblade wavering as the impact disoriented her. But instead of continuing with the vibroblade, she dropped the weapon and reached for something at her belt. Her hand came up with a compact pistol.
She pressed the weapon's muzzle against my chest and squeezed the trigger.
Nothing happened.
The weapon sparked briefly, its energy cell apparently drained or its firing mechanism compromised by the same malicious code that had disabled my rifle. She stared at the useless pistol in confusion, clearly not understanding why her weapon had failed at such a critical moment.
I didn't waste the opportunity. My right hand drove upward striking the side of her pistol and pinning both the weapon and her hand to the durasteel floor beside my head. The monomolecular edge of my knife bit deep into the metal surface, trapping her arm in an awkward position while she struggled to free herself. But she was far from helpless. Her free hand shot down and grabbed my left wrist, pinning it to the floor with surprising strength.
For several long moments we stared at each other, both breathing heavily from exertion and adrenaline. Blood trickled from the cut on my cheek, while similar wounds on her arms and thigh leaked crimson onto the landing's surface. The sounds of ongoing combat echoed around us, but our entire world had contracted to this point of mutual immobilization.
Then something completely unexpected appeared in my vision.
A translucent overlay flickered into existence, displaying text that made me blink in confusion:
[ZEPHYR-7 is requesting a party link. Do you accept? Y/N]
I stared at the message in bewilderment, my head tilting slightly as I tried to process what I was seeing. After a moment of consideration, I focused on the floating message and mentally selected "Y" for yes.
[Party link established. Zephyr-7 added to squad. Shared tactical overlay activated.]
Immediately, new information began appearing in my peripheral vision. I could see Zephyr's basic status information in the corner of my vision, but what caught my attention was a red bar positioned next to her name a health indicator that was currently showing at about sixty percent capacity.
"Oh wow" I breathed, staring at the display in amazement. "You have a biomonitor?"
Zephyr carefully extracted herself from our awkward position, rolling away to create distance while keeping her movements slow and non-threatening. "Yeah, full biometric feedback system" she confirmed. "Tracks vitals, injury status, combat effectiveness, even basic psychological stress indicators. It's been helpful in previous... situations."
"That's military-grade equipment" I observed, drawing my slug thrower and checking the cylinder's remaining rounds. "Expensive as hell and usually restricted to special operations units."
"Let's just say I've had access to quality gear" Zephyr replied evasively, producing a backup blaster from a concealed holster. Her weapon looked well-maintained and showed signs of regular use. "Speaking of which, we should probably find better cover before—"
Energy bolts began raining down from the upper levels, forcing us both to scramble behind the nearest structural supports. The incoming fire was concentrated and accurate, suggesting multiple shooters had decided to target our position while we were distracted by conversation.
I leaned around my cover drawing and returning fire with the slug thrower, the heavy projectiles striking sparks from the metal surfaces above us. Zephyr added her own suppressing fire, her blaster creating a steady stream of energy bolts that forced our attackers to duck back behind their own cover.
"So" Zephyr called out between shots, her tone remarkably casual for someone engaged in a firefight, "have you had formal training? You move like someone with actual combat instruction, not just street fighting experience."
"Some" I replied, squeezing off another round that forced one of the shooters to retreat further behind his barrier. "General conditioning, weapons familiarization, basic tactics. Nothing too specialized yet." I paused to reload, ejecting the empty cylinder and slotting in a fresh one. "What about you? That biomonitor and your equipment suggest professional background."
Zephyr scoffed, a sound that carried clear skepticism. "Sure, 'general training'" she muttered under her breath. "Because everyone with 'general training' can slice enemy weapons systems while engaged in close-quarters combat."
I felt heat rise in my cheeks that had nothing to do with the nearby energy bolts. "I didn't say I was completely inexperienced—"
"Right, and I'm sure that weird enhanced perception of yours is completely natural too" she interrupted, firing a quick burst that silenced one of our attackers temporarily. "Look, I don't care what your background is, but if we're going to work together, it helps to know what each other can actually do."
Before I could formulate a response, a synthetic voice echoed through the entire tower structure, its words cutting through the ambient noise of combat like a blade through silk:
"FIVE HUNDRED CONTESTANTS REMAIN."
Zephyr and I exchanged glances, both recognizing the significance of that announcement. Half the original field had been eliminated in what felt like less than an hour of fighting. The pace of elimination was accelerating, which meant the remaining contestants were either the most skilled, the luckiest, or the best equipped.
"We need to move" I said, checking my ammunition supply. "Staying here makes us targets for anyone coming down from above."
"Agreed. The maintenance corridor I mentioned should give us better tactical options." Zephyr secured her weapon and began preparing for movement. "Can you handle the stairs with those injuries?"
I tested my mobility, rotating my arms and flexing my legs to assess the impact of accumulated damage. The cuts burned, and my broken finger continued to send periodic spikes of pain through my nervous system, but nothing felt immediately debilitating.
"I'll manage. But I suggest we move as a coordinated team rather than just running and hoping for the best."
"What did you have in mind?"
"I take point and provide reconnaissance" I explained, gesturing toward my eye. "My enhanced perception lets me track hostiles through walls and cover, so I can call out threats you might not see coming. You provide covering fire and watch our flanks."
Zephyr considered the proposal for a moment, then nodded. "That works. I'll cover the lower levels while you handle reconnaissance above. Standard tactical communication—keep it brief and clear."
We both took final shots at our current attackers to suppress any immediate pursuit, then began our descent. I moved first, my Force sight expanding outward to encompass as much of the stairwell as possible.
"Two hostiles, level below us, eastern alcove" I called back to Zephyr as we reached the next landing. "They're using the maintenance equipment for cover, but I can see them positioning for ambush."
"Copy that. Can you get a clear shot?"
I lined up the slug thrower on the nearest target, leading him slightly as he moved between cover positions. The heavy projectile struck him center mass, sending him tumbling over the railing with a strangled cry. His companion immediately opened fire in our direction, forcing us both to take cover.
"One down, one active" I reported. "He's got a clear field of fire on our current route."
"I've got him" Zephyr replied, moving to an angle that gave her a better shooting position. Her blaster fired repeatedly, the energy bolts striking the area around the remaining hostile until he was forced to retreat deeper into the alcove.
We continued our advance, with me calling out threats and tactical information while Zephyr provided suppressing fire and watched for flanking attempts. The combination of my enhanced perception and her technical equipment created an effective reconnaissance team.
"Three signatures converging on the level below" I reported as we reached the next landing. "They're using the central support column for cover, probably planning to catch us in crossfire when we descend."
"Grenades?" Zephyr asked hopefully.
"I wish. We'll have to do this the hard way." I studied the tactical situation through my Force sight, noting the positioning and movement patterns of the waiting contestants. "They're spread out enough that we can't engage all three simultaneously. We need to force them to bunch up or separate them somehow."
"What about that slicing ability you mentioned? Any systems down there we could manipulate?"
I sent out a [Ping} as I looked deeper into the structure with my force sight, but instead of focusing on the level below us I traced the electronic pathways throughout the building. The power distribution system was more complex than I'd initially realized a network of transformers, junction boxes, and control nodes that regulated electricity flow throughout the entire tower.
"I might be able to kill their lights" I said, studying the energy patterns flowing through the electrical systems. "But not from here."
The main transformer for this section was located several rooms down from our current position, on the same floor we were standing on. But between us and that transformer room, my Force sight detected multiple energy signatures—at least four contestants who had apparently formed their own temporary alliance.
"The power source is on our level" I explained to Zephyr, pointing in the direction of the transformer room. "About sixty meters that way, past several rooms. But there are hostiles between us and the target."
Zephyr followed my gesture, then let out an exasperated sigh. "Of course it is. Because nothing in this tournament can ever be simple."
She checked her weapon's charge level and adjusted her equipment harness. "How many are we talking about? And what's the tactical situation?"
I focused my Force sight on the area between us and our objective, studying the positioning and movement patterns of the intervening contestants. "Four signatures They're spread out through the rooms, but their positioning suggests coordination. Looks like another temporary alliance."
"Wonderful. Well-armed teamwork is exactly what we needed to deal with right now." Zephyr paused, considering our options. "But if we can kill the power, we gain a significant advantage over everyone else in the tower. My optics can handle low-light conditions, and I assume your enhanced perception doesn't require normal illumination?"
"Force sight works regardless of lighting conditions" I confirmed. "But we'll need to move fast once we start. The transformer room is our primary objective, but we'll have to fight through their position to reach it."
"Standard breach and clear, then. I'll take point for the initial assault, you provide reconnaissance and covering fire." Zephyr began moving toward the stairwell exit. "Once we're committed, there's no backing down. We push through whatever resistance they put up and secure that transformer."
We approached the door leading from the stairwell onto the main floor, both weapons ready. Through the reinforced transparisteel window, I could see part of the corridor beyond a typical office environment with cubicles, workstations, and the kind of corporate furniture that would provide decent cover during a firefight.
"Multiple hostiles confirmed" I whispered tracking the energy signatures positioned throughout the office space. "They're using the cubicle walls for cover, spread out to create overlapping fields of fire. Professional positioning."
"Copy that. On my mark, we go hard and fast." Zephyr's hand moved to the door controls. "Three... two... one... mark!"
The door slid open and we burst through simultaneously, our weapons already tracking toward known threat positions. The response was immediate and overwhelming, energy bolts began crackling through the air from multiple directions as the defending contestants opened fire on our position.
I dove left behind a reinforced desk while Zephyr rolled right toward a structural support column. The office space erupted into chaos as blaster fire crisscrossed the area where we'd been standing moments before. The smell of ozone and burning plastic filled the air as energy weapons found their targets in office equipment and furniture.
"Contact left, two hostiles behind the workstation cluster!" I called out, squeezing off several rounds from my slug thrower. The heavy projectiles punched through the lightweight office furniture, forcing the defenders to seek better cover.
"Contact right, single hostile with elevated position!" Zephyr replied, her blaster spitting rapid bursts toward a figure who had climbed onto a desk for better firing angles. "He's got clear line of sight on our approach route!"
The firefight intensified as both sides maneuvered for advantage. I could track the hostile movements through my Force sight, calling out repositioning attempts and flanking maneuvers to Zephyr while maintaining suppressing fire with my remaining ammunition. The slug thrower's limited capacity meant I had to make every shot count.
One of the defenders broke cover and attempted to rush our position with what appeared to be a vibroblade, clearly hoping to force close-quarters combat where their numbers advantage would be decisive. I tracked his approach and put two rounds center mass, dropping him before he could close the distance.
But his sacrifice allowed the others to advance their positions. I could sense them moving through the cubicle maze, using the distraction to get closer to our cover. Their coordination was impressive—these weren't random contestants who had happened to encounter each other, but a planned team with tactical training.
"They're flanking us through the central corridor" I reported, ejecting my empty cylinder and slotting in a fresh one. "We need to move or we'll be surrounded."
"Agreed. Push toward the transformer room, I'll cover our withdrawal." Zephyr laid down suppressing fire while I began moving from cover to cover, using the office furniture to mask my approach toward our objective.
Inside the transformer room, someone was moving with purposeful intent toward the main power control panel. Their energy signature blazed with the focused determination of someone who understood exactly what they were doing. If they managed to lock down the electrical systems or implement some kind of safeguard protocol, our plan would be ruined.
"Zephyr, we've got a problem!" I shouted over the ongoing firefight. "Someone's already in the transformer room, working on the controls!"
"How long before they complete whatever they're doing?"
I watched the figure's movements through my enhanced perception, noting their systematic approach to the control systems. "Maybe thirty seconds, maybe less. If we're going to do this, it has to be now!"
"Cover me!" Zephyr called back, abandoning her defensive position and beginning a mad sprint toward the transformer room. Energy bolts chased her movement as the remaining hostiles focused their fire on her exposed form.
But I couldn't provide the covering fire she needed from my current position. The angle was wrong, and too much office furniture blocked my line of sight to the most dangerous threats. There was only one way to give her the protection she needed, and it would require exposing myself completely.
I pushed off from my cover and began sliding across the smooth office floor, my body low and my weapon extended toward the transformer room. The movement carried me across the most dangerous part of the battlefield, directly through the crossfire between our enemies and Zephyr's position.
Energy bolts seared past my sliding form as I unloaded my slug thrower with desperate precision. The first shot took out the figure working at the controls, my round catching him in the shoulder and spinning him away from the panel. The second and third shots targeted the main transformer housing itself, the heavy projectiles striking critical components and sending sparks cascading across the room.
I continued firing until the weapon clicked empty six rounds total that had to count for everything. My final shots were aimed at the person I'd wounded, catching him in the legs as he tried to escape the room. The impacts sent him crashing to the floor, his body blocking the doorway as electrical systems began to fail throughout the transformer room.
The lights went out.
Not just in our immediate area, but throughout the entire tower. Emergency lighting flickered on briefly, then died as the cascade failure spread through the building's electrical grid. Only a few battery-powered emergency beacons remained active, casting eerie red shadows that barely illuminated anything beyond a few meters.
Zephyr systematically eliminated the remaining threats, her blaster fire illuminating brief moments of the battlefield as energy bolts found their targets. I provided reconnaissance, calling out positions and movements that her technical enhancements might miss.
"Last hostile down" Zephyr reported, her blaster's energy cell glowing softly in the darkness as she lowered the weapon. "Area secure."
The silence that followed felt almost oppressive after the intensity of combat. My ears were still ringing from the proximity of weapons fire, and the acrid smell of ozone and burned plastic hung heavy in the air. Through my Force sight, I could perceive the motionless forms scattered throughout the darkened office space—five contestants who had been eliminated in the span of perhaps ten minutes.
Just as I began to relax slightly, speakers hidden throughout the room crackled to life with the familiar voice of Maximus Opus, the tournament's announcer. His words echoed not only from the concealed audio systems in our immediate area, but also from speakers throughout the building and even faintly from the other towers across the arena.
"Citizens of the Empire" Maximus Opus announced, his voice now carrying a different quality—less theatrical excitement and more formal ceremony. "The Five Hundred and Thirty-Seventh Imperial Academy Selection Tournament has reached its conclusion!"
I felt my heart skip a beat as the implications sank in. The tournament was over. We had survived.
"Congratulations to the two hundred exceptional individuals who have demonstrated the skill, determination, and tactical excellence required for admission to the Imperial Academy!" The announcer's voice carried genuine pride and respect. "You have proven yourselves worthy to join the ranks of the Empire's finest, and your service will help secure our galaxy's future for generations to come!"